Not Quite Dreaming
by Twilight to Midnight
Summary: A lighthearted summer romp on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Rain storms and rampant Hippogriffs, several scheming and desperate matchmaking mothers and Draco is making the best of this chaos by stripping and strapping one very reluctant bookworm to his bed
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and plot devices belong to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made.**

**A/N: Hello to new readers and old readers!**

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_Fate is blind but your parents are not - Unknown_

Prologue

After spending her formative years on the run or in opposition of some racially challenged dark forces who enjoyed wearing costume masks and killing indiscriminately, Hermione found she very much appreciated the quiet monotony on her days as she approached the final year of her twenties. Her day consisted of little more excitement than deciding what to order for lunch in the company dining room and even working for one Draco Abraxas Malfoy provided little more than a momentary annoyance when she made her weekly report.

If her friends commented on her lack of romantic involvement or personal drama, Hermione took that as the best compliment she could be offered and often pitied the hysterics of her counterparts as they fell in and out of love with practiced ease.

She varied from pattern only once a fortnight, when she would make that stomach churning journey via portkey to visit Ron in California where he had happily taken up the life of a bohemian watercolourist.

So there she sat, on her fortnightly visit, dressed in shapeless tweed staring down at the toes of her sensible black loafers while Ron's life partner straightened their little bungalow with little twitters of absent laughter while she spoke of their three month old twins and Ron's upcoming showing for the echelon of society who had both time and money in abundance.

"I do make good money; better than an Auror's salary any day." Ron smiled affectionately as he leaned down to peck her on the cheek while he deposited a smiling, drooling Hugo on her lap. He cradled Rose as Hermione uncomfortable shifted, watching the child, lest he attempt to entangle himself in her hair as he did during her last visit.

"Harry sends his well wishes. He got entangled in a big hush, hush case and couldn't make it this week but he said to tell you that Pansy is pregnant again. After three girls, he's convinced this one will be a boy."

Ron toweled off the smear of colour on Rose's pert nose as he laughed. "What a coincidence. I wanted to tell you the exact same thing. Celeste is pregnant too."

Hermione congratulated the women sincerely as she sat down beside Ron with a tray of oddly coloured pink lemonade and a beaming smile.

"Harry and Ron are both having an army of kids, darling." Celeste intoned in that smooth southern drawl. "When are you going to start, hmm?"

A flush of awkward embarrassment swamped Hermione's cheeks as she gulped a mouthful of the glass of pink Ron had handed her, evading Hugo's clutching little fingers as she steadied him on her lap with a shift of her thighs. "Not any time soon, if ever…I'm just too busy for…"

"Nonsense." The drawl sharpened dramatically. "All women have time to babies. Why my mama…"

Ron patted his partner briskly on the thigh. "Why don't you take Rosie? She's wilting a little." And indeed, little Rose's eyelids were drooping lazily in the afternoon heat.

Celeste's voice softened immediately as she scooped up her daughter with a doting coo, leaving the room as Ron watched her with open affection.

"Sorry 'bout that Mione."

Suppressing an uncharacteristic burst of inadequacy, Hermione shrugged. "It's just ludicrous to think of having kids of my own now."

A long silence followed as Ron fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "I know this great bloke; you two would really get along. He's into dusty books just like you and he…he likes tweed too." He volunteered in a rush of words.

Hermione smiled, fondly reminded of their keenly graceless adolescence. "No thanks, Ron. I think I'm happier without men in my life. I like…order."

"Oh. Rufus likes order too. He's my accountant you know, have to be totally organised to help me you know. And he's an only child just like you and he'd definitely want to wait to have kids and…"

Hermione held up a restraining hand. "I'll pass."

Ron's frown crinkled the corners of his lips, and Hermione smiled at his puppy-like persona. "Enough of that; tell me how the watercolours are coming along."

Caught by the sudden change of topic to something he was considerably more comfortable with, Ron took up the conversational mantle with charming enthusiasm. Dragging out a piece proudly entitled "Femme Beauty", he began to expound at length about the play of colours and the confluence of shapes.

Though Hermione was sure that it was likely a masterpiece by modern standards, to her it looked like Hugo had gotten into Ron's environmentally friendly paint pallet, decided that the colours looked particularly delicious then promptly discovered that they most definitely were not.

It was with unabashed relief that Hermione discovered her wand vibrating in alert when Ron began to ask her for an honest critique. Pulling out the glowing implement, she read the silver spark of patterns with a frown.

"I've been summoned, I'm afraid." She smiled at Ron, handing Hugo over with relief as he fussed, his chubby paws barely missing her hair by a merciful inch.

"Why on earth are there on call emergencies in potions research?" Ron muttered, bewildered as Hugo promptly kneed his father in a sensitive anatomical location.

"Well," Hermione lifted her purse onto her shoulder with a quick, efficient movement as she spoke. "There was a potion once which blinded everyone in the entire department."

Ron grimaced with sympathy. "Glad I quit being an Auror. Would hate to come across that kind of magic in the field."

"We were researching night vision potions for ministry Auror use actually, so you probably should be glad." Hermione kissed him goodbye and patted Hugo's nappy – that being the only part she could reach without pulling him from between the couch cushions – and said a quick goodbye to Celeste who sweetly stroked her baby daughter to sleep in the other room.

Another stomach churning whirl later along with a squeezing bout of apparation, Hermione bustled into the Malfoy International Head office, a towering structure of glass and steel, newly built and surprisingly located in the London muggle business district.

Taking the inconspicuous looking elevator to the 24th floor, Hermione rushed into her cluttered office, throwing off her cloak as she dropped her purse onto her office chair, for lack of better a space. With silent steps, she rushed towards the conjoining lab door and entered a large open space interspersed with several expansive work benches and an array of bubbling cauldrons, luminescent liquids and storage drawers with a variety of files and ingredients.

Unlike the weekday staff, only a skeleton crew remained on duty on Saturday, checking and following the instructions left by their senior researchers. A pinched looking assistant rushed past her with a nod, her hands full, cradling a cauldron which bubbled into overflow. Looking about, Hermione frowned as she spotted a head of glaring blond hair as it bent over her assigned bench. Her steps faltered for a moment when she realised that the blond hair draped long and smooth down a broad back.

"Mr. Malfoy." She ventured as she resumed her stalled movements until she came to stand a comfortable distance from the man she had formerly regarded with fearful disdain. Hermione, however, was a fair minded if not a stubborn woman, so when he turned towards her, she offered a polite smile.

"Ms. Granger." He spun to speak to her and took in her appearance with a polite glance and a choked utterance which sounded suspiciously like "Sweet Circe."

"Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" The colour of the summons had made it clear that senior company management sought her presence but Hermione had only ever met Lucius Malfoy once at work and that was when he had hired her.

He smiled benignly as he offered his arm. "May we discuss this over tea?"

Hermione stared at the pristinely tailored sleeve, then up to the face of the man who had once held her in the utmost contempt because of her blood status, then to the proffered arm once more. Unease whispered within her and she fought not to give into instinct and slap away the offending limb. Common logic dictated that what Malfoy wanted, Hermione didn't want to give.

"I…I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy but I'm afraid I have a previous engagement and if you would not mind, I would prefer that we conduct in this business as efficiently as possible."

Lucius raised one immaculate eyebrow and politely inclined his head as his arm lowered slowly to his side. "Perhaps, we might speak in your office instead?" He purposely eyed the other employees, many of whom barely attempted to conceal their interest.

Hermione nodded at turned on her heel to head for her office. With almost noiseless steps, the senior Malfoy followed closely behind her, sliding around her elegantly to open the door for her to precede him. This polite gesture only served to unnerve Hermione further and she rushed past him with a tight nod of thanks before turning to face him.

If he sensed her hostility, Lucius did not respond to it. He smiled quietly at the cluttered space of her office and leant on a corner of her desk, careful to avoid the piles of parchment and texts.

"I won't keep you long, Ms. Granger. I had hoped to…cajole but I'm afraid that I must be blunt given the time constraints."

_Here it comes. _Hermione braced herself, her hand inching into her robes for her wand out of post-war instinct.

"You applied for a grant to further research and improve the formula for wolfsbane potion."

Hermione's hand dropped from her robes, her eyes suddenly sharp against his regal features. "Yes. I was rejected as Mr. Hernandez deemed it unnecessary and financially insolvent due to the small population of post-war Lycae."

Lucius inclined his head in accord and set his cane against her desk. "Well, as head of this company. I can authorise the grant you seek. All I ask in return is a few moments of your time." From a hidden pocket within his robes, he retrieved a thick vellum envelope with her name carefully inscribed atop in glowing gold ink.

She took it with caution, testing the light weight between her hands before glancing back towards him.

"As you may know," Lucius smoothed the front of his robes with a practiced hand. "My wife and I hold a summer fete each year in honour of the hallowed solstice."

Hermione did know. The ever pretentious crème de la crème of wizarding society gathered every year without exception to attend the revelry and – Hermione could only speculate – to gloat and showcase their own wealth to their international compatriots.

"The festivities will last a week, beginning this Saturday coming. There will be picnics, hunts and various tournaments to amuse our guests, all culminating of course in the traditional masque ball on the night of the solstice. All I ask is that you attend and make an appearance at every event, even should you choose to stay only a minute or two."

Hermione's look must have conveyed a deep scepticism because Lucius laughed as he picked up his cane and tucked it under the crook of one arm. "I will personally guarantee your safety, Ms. Granger. You are, after all, one of the leading talents of my potions department."

He gave her a firm look and much to Hermione's surprise, tweaked her chin with paternal sort of affection. "May I assure my wife of your attendance?"

"Why?" Hermione blurted. "What for? I may be a _leading talent_ but surely not all of your well performing employees are invited so cordially?"

Lucius started towards the door, lips slightly curved in a smile or more likely, a smirk. "It would greatly please Narcissa if you were to attend, and myself also. We ask nothing else than for you to conduct yourself with your usual grace and courtesy. It is, of course, also a great opportunity to further your own business interests as a great many of my financial counterparts would be present and quite interested in meeting a great mind such as yourself."

Hermione nodded reluctantly, vowing to arm herself with an array of defensive potions and charms before ever stepping foot into Malfoy manor ever again. "All right; but I want the grant approved before the party."

"Naturally." Lucius handed her a heavy bundle of folded parchments. "You'll find all the stipulations fair and necessary. I trust a starting sum of five hundred thousand galleons is sufficient? With a further four and half million if necessary."

Hermione read the contract, squinting at the fine print which graciously enlarged itself for her. "I may apply for more funds if the research is going well?"

"Of course." Lucius handed her an inked quill as she smoothed the contract on her desk. "You know, most young witches would sell their family and all the treasured family pets to obtain an invitation."

"Then you should have invited one of them, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione signed the contract with an easy flourish, blotted the ink with practiced hands and folded it back up. "I look forward to your company come Saturday, Mr. Malfoy."

"And I yours, Ms. Granger." He bowed to her and left her office, leaving Hermione puzzled and wary as she glanced down at the vellum envelope.

She picked it up and cracked the wax seal with resignation, drawing out the tastefully embellished card within which held the elegantly phrased invitation in golden letters and something Hermione had not noticed before, an old silver, heavy and ornately fashioned key with a small pearl tassel.

Weighing the key in her hand, Hermione shook her head, speculating – with a certain sense of biased negativity – what the Malfoys were up to and without a doubt, the Malfoys were always up to something.

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Narcissa's delicate hand rested upon Lucius' graciously proffered arm as they strolled at a leisurely pace across the lawn of the east gardens within the beautiful Malfoy Manor grounds. Her small measured steps were matched by those of her husband who casually glanced over his shoulder at his sole living heir. Draco sat in a shaded pavilion, at an intricate wrought iron table, sipping tea from an almost insipidly delicate teacup. His attention was deeply engrossed in the papers before him, allowing his parents time to themselves. Not that it was terribly necessary now that his primary place of residence was a spacious penthouse in central London.

Lucius turned back to his wife who squeezed his arm in silent entreaty once they had retreated an adequate distance and gently stroked the soft silk upon her shoulder.

"Has she accepted then?" Her smooth cultured voice carried no further than his ears.

"Yes, of course. She is, as expected, suspicious of our motives but she has agreed to attend in exchange for some financial incentive."

Narcissa's delicate nose wrinkled at the mention of money but quickly warmed to another topic, eager for an answer.

"Did you speak to her about –?"

Lucius patted her arm with a fond, tolerant smile. "I thought it imprudent to mention her manner of dress when she already proved to be rather reluctant to attend."

"Sweet Merlin, you mean to say that she's attending the premier event of the summer social calendar in all manner of artificial fabrics and poorly shaped cuts?" Narcissa seemed so horrified that Lucius could not hold back a bark of laughter as he leant in to lay a sweet kiss on her head.

"I imagine the servants will have an unfortunate lapse and very rudely lose her trunks upon her arrival. We, as the gracious hosts, will, of course, provide her with a suitable alternate wardrobe."

Narcissa smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "It will be an unfortunate incident but we will rally admirably." Detaching herself cheerfully from his side, Narcissa bounded towards her son, behaving like a woman half her age as she kissed him enthusiastically and apparated away, presumably to go shopping.

As Lucius leisurely strolled back to the pavilion, Draco raised his head and quirked a curious eyebrow.

"Been canoodling mother on the staircase again, have you?" He muttered as his eyes lowered once more to shuffle his papers.

Lucius flushed uncharacteristically and nearly unbalanced the tea tray as he took a well-cushioned seat opposite his son.

"Don't be disrespectful, boy." He said, trying to hide the fluster in his voice as he distractedly smoothed down his robes. "Besides, your mother and I are at the prime of our years and canoodling, as you so charmingly put it, is a natural part of our lives."

"Not so natural to a seven year old innocent on Christmas morning, rushing down the stairs to greet Santa Claus."

If possible, Lucius flushed an even darker shade of colour, bordering on Weasley puce. Clearing his throat unnecessarily, the elder Malfoy busied himself with the tea service, stirring in an excessive amount of sugar then forcing down a saccharine mouthful with a grimace.

"How are the preparations coming for the crashing bore?" Draco continued, ignoring his father's discomfort.

"Don't call the fete a crashing bore. Your mother loves this event; she looks forward to it every year and puts in every effort to make each consecutive one more spectacular than the last. She's bringing in domesticated Hippogriffs this year."

Draco paled immediately, drawing his arms in protectively to his chest, his sharp silver gaze suddenly fixed intently on his father. "Hippogriffs? What…whatever for?"

Lucius smiled at the sudden turnaround in the tone of the conversation. "For the hunt, naturally; it's become all the rage in Russia to be able to traverse the ground and the air. Augusta Zabini is quite keen on the idea."

"Well that does say something, if Augusta likes them; it must be a hell of a ride."

Draco's handsome features twisted in bemusement and Lucius sighed. "Don't let your mother hear you say that; they're as thick as thieves these days now that Bellatrix has…passed."

Killed in pitiful ignominy by Molly Weasley was what Lucius really meant but the mention of the Bellatrix Lestrange in the Malfoy household was strictly inviolable.

"I don't see why we can't all ride horses as per tradition. Why do we have to resort to those arrogant windy fleabags?"

Lucius' smile was elusive. "Some traditions are meant to be changed."

Draco shot his father a curious look. "If you say so…but really, must it be the Hippogriffs? We could redecorate the north wing of the Manor, Merlin knows those plaid curtains great grandfather favoured need to go. Then there's your hair, I mean really, sometimes I can't tell if it's you or mother from the back. The 70s have been over for quite some time really –"

"Insolent child!" Lucius thumped his cane against the floor. "Wait till your mother gets home; she'll give you the spanking of a lifetime."

"Kinky." Draco muttered. "But I'm not particularly partial to –"

"Speaking of your mother," Lucius said, giving his son one last amused look. "She would like to know if you're bringing along a date. If so, she will likely need to invite the McLaggen family to even the ratio of the sexes."

Draco frowned. "No. I know how mother despises the McLaggens. I may not even stay for the duration of the fete. There is a very promising American curse breaker that I hope to lure away from Dennison."

Lucius smiled quietly at his son. "As you please, Draco. At least be there to welcome the guests; it's the least your mother deserves."

His son nodded his acquiescence and Lucius smiled congenially, an expression that would have highly alarmed Draco had he not been so busy perusing his papers.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm still a bit rusty and getting back into the swing of things so all comments welcome. As you can likely tell, this story will just be a little light hearted romp through the Dramione universe as I am all "serious-ed out" from previous stories.

Twilight To Midnight


	2. Saturday

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling**.** No profit is being made.**

**A/N: And the fun begins and the plot thickens. I think I may have written this chapter with too sarcastic of a mind set so...well, interpret as you please. Still light and fun so no harm, no foul!  
**

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_In the spirit of Draco and Hermione..._

_Nancy Astor: If I were your wife I'd put poison in your coffee_

_Winston Churchill: And if I were your husband I would drink it_

Saturday_  
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A furious feline yowl split the air and a feral orange ball of fur streaked past an exasperated young witch as she blew off wisps of flyaway hair from her face. Propping damp palms against her hips, Hermione seized her slippery wand and once more aimed the instrument at her wayward pet.

"I know Crookshanks. I don't want to go either, but think…just think, the grant money could mean a cure, a solution for the entire Lycae population!"

Said pet gave her what could only be interpreted as a disdainful look, whether from contempt for that particular species of dog or exasperation at his mistress. Tail in the air, the half-kneazle sauntered proudly from her bedroom, leaving a streak of shed hair on the carpet behind him. The summer heat, it seemed, had affected more than Crookshanks mood.

Exhaustively totting the oversized cat carrier at her side, Hermione followed her long-time familiar into her equally stifling living room. The clutter and mess from her frantic last minute packing was evident on every available surface of the room as articles of clothing and bathroom necessities lay carelessly discarded within arm's reach of an open travelling trunk.

With a lazy leap, Crookshanks launched himself onto Hermione's favourite grey blazer upon the couch, kneaded his claws smugly in the material before rolling contentedly against the fraying coat.

"You can't stay here, boy. No one is available to look after you." Not technically a lie on Hermione's part since she hadn't tried to find anyone to care for her familiar. Her thinking being that she could always use an extra pair of eyes while she resided within the Malfoy household much like a mute bodyguard with claws, a set of teeth and a rather hostile disposition.

"Just think of it Crooksie…a big country house. I bet it's a lot cooler." She said cajolingly. "And they'll be a lot of nice friendly servants to feed you whenever you want."

The half-kneazle gave her an assessing look and crossed to where she stood. With one last calculating expression, he padded into the luxurious carrier and settled in to groom himself.

Hermione uttered a relieved groan and before Crookshanks could regret his concession, she swung the small carrier door shut and slipped on an extra secure, kneazle-proof latch just in case. With her most important task under control, Hermione made short work of the rest of her packing, swinging her wand as she directed the rest of her essentials into her travelling trunk though she forsook her ruined blazer with some reluctance.

Key and invitation in hand, Hermione shrunk her cumbersome trunk with a flourish and tucked the item into the pocket of her robes. She carefully picked up Crookshanks and rushed out the door, scrambling down several flights of stairs as she cursed the lack of an elevator in the wizarding apartment complex. In the silent street before her building, Hermione swung her wand in an arc, summoning the Knight Bus, unwilling to apparate with Crookshanks on hand.

Instead of the cloud of exhaust and the screech of worn tires, Hermione started considerably as silence greeted her. With several bewildered glances to her left then to her right, she looked down at her wand, wondering if she had somehow broken the vine instrument in her mad rush to leave home. As she gave it another experimental swing, her acute hearing picked up a quiet, rhythmic clatter from around the corner and much to her surprise, an elegant equipage rolled into her sight.

The vision of regency class drew to a quiet stop before her and a nobly bewigged coachman leapt from the rig and executed a smart bow.

"Ms. Granger." He pronounced her name with cool reverence. "Lord Malfoy sends his compliments."

Hermione clutched at Crookshanks' carrier as the half-Kneazle spotted the Thestrals and let out a furious hiss, rattling his cage with fervour, attempting what would be a truly disastrous escape.

"May I take your luggage, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione tried for a smile and handed the carrier over and if the attendant found her lack of proper accoutrements odd, he was well trained enough not to comment.

As Crookshanks was appropriately secured on the top of the carriage, another footman appeared at her side, swinging open the door and waving Hermione into the luxurious interior. Lovely red brocade and golden braiding met Hermione's widened gaze as she carefully settled into a deeply cushioned bench which smoothed and moulded around her body as soon as she sat down. With a sigh of pleasure, Hermione slouched into the bench, marvelling at the comfort as the carriage began its smooth journey with a quick upward incline.

A look out the carriage window showed her orderly street dropping from view; the rows of identical houses became rows of identical roofs until it began to blur into unrecognisable clusters of colour. As the equipage drew away from London, the telltale red and grey of roofing tiles gave way to open stretches of pristine green fields. The patchy English sunshine illuminated the earth, showing areas of verdant knolls cut through by winding, glistening streams and long ribbons of empty road.

Soon, the trip seemed to draw to an end and as the carriage began a long, smooth descent, Hermione spotted a sprawling manor house encircled by paths of chalk limestone which gave way to sprawling French style gardens and then pristine untouched acreage.

Before the main entrance, clusters of vehicles, both modern and traditional, were parked to allow scores of colourfully dressed guests to alight. Hermione stared at the spectacle as more guests proceeded through the gate; an elegant couple slipped artlessly out of an Aston Martin while another more exuberant group arrived in a fanfare of screeching Shehnais and a vibrantly decorated elephant.

The Malfoys carriage made a smooth and easy landing and almost before the equipage had drawn to a true stop, the attendant leapt from his perch up front to open the carriage door for her. He held out a white gloved hand and Hermione took it with eager fascination, leaping onto the gravelled drive just as a pair of beautiful shuffling woman rushed past in red silk Furisodes, whispering to each other in rapid fire Japanese.

A rather disgruntled Crookshanks was quickly retrieved from the top of the carriage by another liveried footman who turned towards her and hovered at her elbow until she turned from the spectacle towards him.

"May I take you trunks, Madam?"

Hermione flushed slightly, drawing out her shrunken travelling trunk which nestled perfectly into the palm of his hand. Looking around, she was rather abashed to note that many other women seemed to have armies of similarly dressed footman unloading what could be equated to the entire luggage department of Louis Vuitton.

Ever practical, Hermione brushed away her pointless discomfort and stepped toward the main entrance. The heavy double doors were thrown open in welcome and the spacious doorway was clustered with the wizarding elite from all corners of the globe. Within the crowd, three telltale heads of white blonde hair captured Hermione's attention and she made her way towards them, intent on offering a succinct but polite greeting before retreating to her designated room. Her casual denims, it seemed, weren't appropriate for a meet and greet with the haute ton.

Smiling at her own joke, Hermione ignored several questioning looks from her fellow guests and squeezed past one particularly rotund and brash Spaniard until she had captured Narcissa Malfoys attention.

"Lady Malfoy, it is a pleasure to see you once again. Thank you so much for the invitation."

At her words, Lucius and Draco both spun towards her, one with a look of subtle approval and the other with bewildered horror.

Narcissa returned her greeting with a million-watt smile and clasped Hermione's hands warmly much to her surprise. The Malfoy matriarch leant forward and offered her two firm kisses on her cheeks, releasing her hands only to reach up and touch Hermione's wild head of hair with obvious fascination. Smoothing back a thick curling lock, she sent the younger witch an abashed smile and dropped her hands politely.

"I am so glad you could join us, darling. How do you like the estate so far? I hear you're quite the connoisseur of rare texts so I trust you would enjoy our library…"

"Eh? What's this?" The deeply flushed, barrel-chested Spaniard she had slipped past previously suddenly turned on Hermione. "A sincere and unexpected pleasure, querida. I have not seen you here previously."

Narcissa intervened with practiced grace. "Señor Vasquez, have you not met Lucius' protégée, Miss Hermione Granger?"

The man blustered charmingly. "Granger?" He said with his rolling smooth accent. "Of Potter, Weasley, Granger? Oh Señorita, what a sincere pleasure! Your picture in the papers does you no justice, sí?"

Hermione blushed, taken off guard by his genuine excitement. "It's a pleasure to meet you Señor Vasquez."

"Oh, you must call me Macario, dulce niña." He grabbed her hand and shook it with vigour then invoking absolutely no subtlety, he raised her left hand to his eyes and inspected the limb with interest. "No wedding ring, I see niña – you must meet my son!"

Hermione started and blushed violently. Smiling a little worriedly, she shook her head but Macario was not to be deterred as he called over a sea of twittering females.

"Aurelio! Aurelio! Come niño; come meet this beauty!"

Heat scorched Hermione's cheeks and spread down her neck as she watched the group of gossiping women part with awed reverence and Hermione could easily understand their reaction.

The man striding confidently towards her was a beauty. Not just handsome or striking but beautiful. Dark wavy hair, high distinguished brow, deep, brooding eyes, smooth aquiline nose, full, defined lips and sun-kissed skin. All this atop a lean six foot body with a swimmer's physique encased in perfectly tailored navy suit and a crisp white shirt open at the neck.

Hermione had to do a mental check to ensure her mouth hadn't dropped open and sent her tongue lolling to the floor. She may have been practical but she still had two X chromosomes in her genetics.

Macario wrapped a proud arm around his son's broad mouth-watering shoulders and turned back to Hermione with a knowing smile. "Señorita Hermione, may I present to you, my eldest hijo, Aurelio."

Aurelio smiled and Hermione's knees nearly buckled under her weight. "It is my pleasure entirely, belleza dulce."

With a start, Hermione squeaked as Macario took up her left hand once more, placing it firmly in his son's keeping.

"No ring, niño, eh?"

A slight and beautiful pink spread slowly across those chiselled cheekbones as Aurelio offered her a sweetly apologetic look.

"Please ignore my father," He whispered to her with a warm kiss to her knuckles. "He is eager for grandchildren and often oversteps but he truly…"

A strangled sound intruded on Hermione's thoughts and a moment later a firm body pressed up behind her as a hard arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her off her feet. With a shocked screech, Hermione found herself being swept out of the entrance hall, up a grand flight of marble stairs around a corner, down an opulent hallway, through a magnificent spacious portrait gallery full of snickering ancestors, into a sunny drawing room and finally through a door into what looked to be a very masculine study.

The door slammed shut ominously behind her.

"You – you go too far!"

Hermione spun and faced a very flustered Draco Malfoy.

"Excuse me?" Her eyes widened, anger forcing her face to flush and her hands to fist. "What the hell was that?"

Draco ignored her question, his own face flushed with inexplicable displeasure as he pointed and gestured wildly. Hermione watched in frustration until he took a deep breath and finally controlled his gesticulations.

"You," He pointed at her rudely, aiming a finger with breathless abandon. "You're…you've crossed a line today! If you choose to stay, understand you can never go back!"

Hermione gaped at him as he ranted, her mouth dropped open in outrage, not understanding a single word which spilled from his lips.

"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy? Your parents invited me and I'm not going anywhere!"

Malfoy raked a hand through his mussed hair, watching her with a feverish glint to his gaze. "You didn't just cross the line, you stupid bint, you dropped trew and mooned it too! Well fine! Stay if you're game but don't push me…so help me God, don't push me!"

Hermione stared at him; the ferret had finally lost his ever loving mind. "Push you? Oh, I'll push you all right – straight down the nearest flight of stairs you cousin-loving, effeminate castrato!"

She watched as his jaw sawed open and shut like a broken mechanism before he growled, spun and stomped away. He flung open the study door, revealing the surprising sight of both Lucius and Narcissa in hunched postures with their ears pressed against the now absent door, suggesting Hermione's conversation with their son had been less than private.

Both straightened, abashed. Narcissa smoothed back her hair and Lucius absently loosened his collar…Draco stared at them, made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and turned back towards her.

"Just so you know, pretty boy Aurelio is gay so making calf eyes at him won't get you any cock, whatever his father may think!" Huffing indignantly, he stormed past his parents and disappeared from view.

Narcissa's wide eyes went from her retreating son to Hermione but her composure returned to her in a split second and a wide, beauteous smiled replaced her bewilderment at once. She waved her hand in the direction of her husband who promptly took his leave, and smoothly slid her arm into the crook of Hermione's with an air of charmed camaraderie.

"Now, my dear, let me show you to your room. I'm afraid there's been a slight incident concerning you trunk…and your cat."

Hermione followed Narcissa's small flowing steps with wide eyes. "Crookshanks? What happened, is he all right? Did he…?"

Narcissa's smile froze for a moment before she cleared her throat and answered. "Why yes…the creature…Crookshanks is quite all right. Well…I think you'd better see for yourself."

Alarmed, Hermione quickened her step, gnawing at her bottom lip with concern as Narcissa drew her into the main hallway which was now bustling with guests ascending the steps, being guided by various servants. Stopping only briefly to greet many of the array of colourful personas, Hermione was introduced and quickly ushered on. As Narcissa drew her toward the landing of another flight of ascending stairs, she spotted both Macario and Aurelio Vasquez who waved at her and gestured for her to join them.

"Hermione!" Aurelio called after her but she could only manage a feeble wave as Narcissa exhibited a surprising amount of strength as she led Hermione up the flight of stairs and away from the milling visitors, all of whom were being ushered towards something on the second floor.

"Where is everyone going?" She asked the blonde woman beside her as she continued to climb towards the quiet third floor.

"Why, to the guest wing of course. There weren't enough rooms so we placed you in Draco's wing of the manor; I hope you don't mind."

Suddenly further alarmed, Hermione almost screeched to a stop on the landing, eyes wide as she stared down the broad sunny corridor supposedly leading to Draco Malfoys wing of the house. "I'm not sure that's wise, Lady Malfoy…"

"Cissa. Call me Cissa or mama…I always wanted a daughter…oh how charming, try it out dear, it'll sound grand!" The matriarch effused.

Hermione hesitated, anxiety and unease making itself known in the erratic beat of her heart and the sweat on her palms. "Umm…mama, Cissa…I don't think I should be anywhere near your son at this point in time. He seems to…disapprove of my presence here, in your home, let alone in his wing."

Narcissa waved off her concern with an airy sweep and she glided forward once more with Hermione in tow. "Oh pish posh. That boy doesn't know what he wants. Now," She paused in front of a set of doors, pushing down on the handles to swing them wide open, revealing a lush, indulgent space which could've swallowed Hermione's apartment twice over. "I trust you have the key I sent you…oh, there's your…Crookshanks!"

Hermione immediately stopped in her perusal of the magnificent bedroom, her eyes snapping to her familiar. She let out a sharp squeak of dismay. "Sweet Merlin, what happened to him?"

Narcissa smiled sweetly. "Oh. One of the house-elves noticed he was shedding so she groomed him."

Crookshanks sauntered over to his mistress angrily, large patches of fur conspicuously absent, especially that on the crown of his head, making him look like a particularly pious friar from the time of Shakespeare; that or a particularly unfortunate victim of male pattern baldness and a rowdy teen with a razor and some shaving cream.

The Malfoy matriarch shrugged innocently. "She was quite vigorous."

Dragging her eyes away from the atrocity, Hermione assured herself that the fur would likely grow back thicker and wilder than ever. "What…what were you saying about my trunk?"

"Oh that." Narcissa frowned. "I'm afraid it is quite lost."

"Lost? Oh…I could just _'accio'_ it, I've done it a dozen times before. Harry and Ron always lose…"

"No!" Narcissa held up her hands pleadingly. "The servants have already tried and with so many guests and all their luggage in the house…well you can imagine the chaos."

"Oh." Hermione swallowed nervously. Was this Lucius Malfoys way of reneging on the contract? Had Draco said something to change his mind? Damn it, she needed the money to sponsor her research; no other company would…

"I will, of course, be more than happy to replace every item lost!" Narcissa interrupted her thoughts as six liveried footmen entered, totting several large and heavy looking trunks between them. Under Lady Malfoys instruction, they placed them at the foot of the bed and lifted the lids open before leaving the women with a bow.

"I hope I estimated your size correctly; it's so hard to tell beneath those ill-fitting numbers." Narcissa pinched her around the waist with both hands before nodding in satisfaction.

"Cissa…thank you but this is too much. I only had one trunk when I arrived."

The blonde waved away her protests. "Nonsense, darling. Now, pick something appropriate to change into then come join us on the south lawn; all the ladies are convening for afternoon tea." Narcissa sauntered up to Hermione and offered her cheek.

With an awkward smile, she kissed the older woman quickly and promised to hurry along as Cissa retreated from the room. As Hermione bent to rifle through the first trunk containing what looked like items designers labelled summer chic, a flash of blonde caught her attention once more.

Beyond the double doors of her room, Draco Malfoy stood with his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. He lifted his hand and pointed at her wildly. "Too far, Granger, too far!"

They were all bloody mad and before the end of this week, she would be too! Hermione suppressed a scream of frustration as she bolted towards the double doors and slammed them in his slack jawed face. Fishing in her pockets desperately, Hermione found the pearl tasselled key, shoved it in the keyhole and twisted until she heard the satisfying click of tumblers falling into place.

Hermione crushed the sense of desperate and inexplicable claustrophobia the manor invoked and soothed herself by looking around her room to assure herself that the walls weren't caving in on her. One sweeping glance affirmed that the soaring sky high ceiling was still solid high above her head and that the frescoed walls still stood as witness to countless scenes of frolicking fae. A large, sweeping expanse of floor to ceiling windows was framed with miles of blue velvet curtain and cream brocade and a set of windowed doors led onto a balcony framed by silky marble balustrades. Already, she could see crowds of well dressed women congregating on the lawn below and Hermione fought the urge to throw herself onto the available four poster bed and feign illness.

Alas no…she had a deal with Lucius Malfoy. She would show herself at every occasion, even if it killed her.

Launching herself into the confusing array of fashion choices in the trunks, she drew out a modest enough summer dress and quickly stripped and stepped into the cool cotton number. After Crookshanks snubbed her attempted to say goodbye, Hermione carefully checked that the coast was clear before stepping into the hallway. With the help of a squeaky voiced house-elf wearing what looked like woollen mittens for shoes, she found her way onto the south lawn where she was immediately accosted by waiters with trays of that damnable pink lemonade – why on earth was it always pink? – and various selections of finger sandwiches and pastries.

Narcissa stood a few feet away with a group of haughty looking matrons. She beckoned welcomingly at Hermione but she shook her head, hoping to avoid the scrutiny already being aimed in her direction. Taking up a plate with her selection of refreshments, Hermione made for a bench on the edge of the open lawn, seeing only a lone woman about her age and thus hoping for a little peace if not quiet.

Upon her approach, the well-tanned beauty looked up and Hermione smiled at her politely.

"I like your dress." She had never been good at girl talk but that seemed an appropriate place to start.

The other woman looked down, dropping her small watercress sandwich onto her empty plate, grimacing as she dusted off her hands. She finally looked up and smiled charmingly. "Gracias. I like your boobs."

Hermione squeaked as she tripped onto the bench, bruising her hip as she nudged the armrest. Shifting to perch on the cushions, Hermione rested her own plate on her knees and looked down to assess her modest cleavage. "I suppose they're nice enough but yours are considerably more impressive." She cleared her throat nervously. "I'm Hermione, by the way."

"Oh!" The beauty's eyes widened comically before her posture relaxed and she laughed with a small gurgling hiccup. "Excuse me, I am Reina Vasquez. You met my father and brother earlier."

Malfoy's admonitory words about Aurelio from their screaming match in the study suddenly came back to Hermione and she was momentarily at a loss for words. Was the entire family batting for the other team? Looks like Macario wasn't going to get those grandchildren anytime soon.

Reina seemed to read her expression with ease and another giggling hiccup escaped her lips. Her beautiful dark eyes dipped to Hermione's plate with interest as she tilted her head with interest. "Could I steal a nibble? I'm absolutely famished."

"Of course." Hermione offered her the selection of sandwiches and cakes while she interestedly observed Reina placing her own plate onto the gravelled path where another four similarly filigreed dishes sat almost inconspicuously.

"Mama says I shouldn't eat quite so much in company; it's quite unladylike you know." A third cake disappeared within two bites. "But of course, growing up with Aurelio, we always competed in everything, including who could eat the most without making ourselves vomit. Papa used to say that it was very fortunate we were born wealthy or we would've eaten a middle class family out of house and home."

Hermione feared that would very likely be true as Reina polished off what remained of the pastries, even going so far as to retrieve her formerly discarded watercress sandwich which she devoured with a satisfied moan.

"So," Reina spoke, setting down the sixth plate. "What do you think of my brother? Handsome, no?"

Hermione's mind whirled. "I…"

Reina continued unheeded. "This party is not just an opportunity for the rich and influential to strut about like peacocks, you know. At least two marriages result from this every year…it's like a bear trap for the unweary; baited with extensive dowries and heady moonlit balls overflowing with elf wine."

"Really?" Hermione asked fascinated; it was like being educated on the mating practices of a whole separate species.

"Oh yes." Reina leant close and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Shouta Kobayashi – big shot Quidditch player in the Asian league – you may have seen his sisters around, twittering like idiots and joined at the hip." She gave Hermione a speaking look. "Caught with his pants round his ankles with a _Yankï_ of all people."

"Excuse me?" Hermione muttered, leaning close as she shot a quick, assessing look around, suddenly voraciously curious. Though she was no gossip…no, no, not by any stretch of the word.

Reina clicked her tongue. "A _Yankee_. An American. Tessa Adams. Don't get me wrong, Tess is a great girl. Smart, gorgeous and the sweetest soul you could ever hope to meet."

"So what was the problem?"

"The Kobayashi family had big holdings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as other places and the Adams family are notorious for their government weapons contracts, even way back in the 1940s. You can imagine the hostility present there. But they're happily married now…the Adams family welcomed them with open arms but Shouta's father still calls Tessa the foreign devil who led his only son astray."

Hermione nodded and contemplated Reina. "But that can't be entirely attributed to this party."

Reina gave her an amused look. "They'd met that week and married the week after. If the Malfoys have invited you for any reason, it will be for that."

Nausea and panic bubbled on the verge of Hermione's throat as she sent Reina an incredulous look. Surely not. That made absolutely no sense. But why else could the Malfoys have given her this invitation? What other purpose could it serve when Draco was so obviously disconcerted by her presence. She shook her head at Reina and uttered dismissive laugh. "No. Why on earth would the Malfoys match-make for me of all people?"

"Take my word for it. I've been attending this party since Aurelio got too pretty to hide away. Think about it, their sole heir and legacy is single and happy about it. He's nearly thirty and that has to make his parents nervous."

Indignant, Hermione sniffed. "This isn't the middle ages, thirty is no longer the twilight years of a man's life and it certainly isn't too late for him to marry."

Reina smiled mischievously. "Believe me, I know, but the Wizarding world promotes earlier marriage and enthusiastic procreation…our population dwindling as it is. Mama married papa right out of school much like the Malfoys. By now, they would've expected at least three grandbabies and bragging rights among this crowd." She pointed at the group of older ladies standing around Narcissa just as another round of sycophantic laughter resounded in the garden.

The panic strengthened its grip on Hermione's stomach and she emptied what remained of her lemonade into the garden hedge. "Are you suggesting…that the Malfoys brought me here to…to marry me off to that anaemic ferret?"

"Quite so. Take it from a woman who's had more than a decade of experience avoiding the Parson's noose as you English so charmingly put it. You'll not be leaving this party without a diamond the size of a doll's head on that hand. Besides, Draco is quite handsome."

"Then you marry him!" Hermione exclaimed with start, standing abruptly as she watched Reina with something akin to true fear in her eyes. From the corner of her eye, she could see Narcissa glancing over at her as she seemingly took in the situation with a glance and noted Reina's presence beside her. She began to excuse herself from the group of matrons and Hermione sat heavily and glanced pleadingly at the Spanish beauty.

"Help." She croaked, miserably, bizarrely unnerved of having anything to do with Draco.

Reina laughed delightedly. "Lean close, amiga. I have a plan. You can be assured of mine and Aurelio's help. Now…"

"Hermione! Reina, darling. I see you two have become fast friends."

"Ah, sí, Cissa! She is a delightful companion." Reina took Hermione's hands eagerly and cradled it to her chest. "I can see why she made such a wonderful impression on Aurelio. He's very eager to see her again you know. Papa too…he's always wanted Aurelio to bring a little cleverness into the family."

Hermione watched Narcissa carefully and had she not, she would've missed the subtle tic in her jaw on an otherwise perfect expression.

"Really? How charming. The Malfoy family, is of course, never lacking in intellect but Draco has always had the highest opinion of Hermione, here. They've practically been in each other's pockets since early childhood."

Reina's grip on Hermione's hand became almost painful. "De veras?" Both women turned to Hermione expectantly as Reina spoke again. "Did you have a falling out? Because poor Draco really seemed quite perturbed to see you when you arrived this morning. He made something of a scene."

"Playful quarrel." Narcissa snapped with a sweet smile. "You must allow me to steal Hermione away; she simply must meet Augusta Zabini."

As Narcissa towed her away, Hermione looked back helplessly. Reina smiled serenely and jauntily waved her off. "I'll come by your room later then, querida!"

Narcissa's smile tightened just a fraction more.

* * *

**A/N: A little more for posterity...**

_Blossomstars: That is both flattering and concerning. Happy reading!_

_pEnPaLiE: I'm focusing on this story and some of my romantic fiction right now, so Golden is by the wayside. I'm just no good at continuity when it comes to my Twilight stories, sorry!_

_pansy25: Thank you darling. Still working on the fiction but it's getting there. Happy reading._

_sgasga: You're not dreaming! I'm back! And yes, I thought Ron deserved a break after "Revenge" and what could be more relaxing than being a bohemian artist? As for Harry, Pansy's got him under her thumb so he'll like what she tells him to like. As for the tweed, Narcissa fixed that good - Her trunk is going in a furnace as we speak!_

_Hamataroo: I didn't mean for Celeste to come off so malicious though I suppose I did make her sound a little harsh. She was meant to be more of a traditional southern belle with a wizarding twist._

**Twilight to Midnight**

**P.S: I apologise to anyone who does speak Spanish and feel that I have butchered your language. Input is welcome...oh and pardon any mistakes, I don't have a beta reader and re-reading my own work often makes me inexplicably temperamental.  
**


	3. Sunday

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognisable in the following chapter. Cheers, JKR!**

**A/N: Writing at 3a.m. does funny things to dreamers...  
**

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* * *

The insane, on occasion, are not without their charms - Kurt Vonnegut Jr._

Sunday

It would be a cold day in hell before Hermione would allow herself to stand shoulder to shoulder with Draco Malfoy for any sort of reason and yet, on this rather tepid summer day, with the skies overcast and the rain threatening on the horizon, she found herself doing exactly that; she with displeasure compressing her lips and he with disdain firming his. They both stood together in the shadowed alcove as a party of exuberant male guests arrayed themselves on the back lawn, their wives watching on indulgently.

The sole exception, standing proud and vibrant against the darkly attired male crowd was Reina, her tunic and breeches a sparkling spectacle of crystal and sequins as she chatted in rapid fire Spanish with Aurelio.

Just beyond the tree-line, Hermione could see the shadows of movement, a group of Hippogriffs being tended and groomed by their keepers before being lead to the much anticipated presentation.

"What's wrong Granger? Afraid of a little breeze up your skirt? Don't worry; you won't feel a thing under that steel chastity belt."

Hermione clenched her fists and assured herself that as soon as the hunting party was mounted then she could excuse herself from this farce of an amusement. As the first hunter bowed to his mount and was allowed to approach, she cautiously watched Malfoy from the corner of her eye, a habit born of her war days.

He shifted toward her slowly, his stance screaming with hostility as his shoulders shrugged with tension. "What's wrong? Pretty boy Aurelio didn't do a decent job last night? Had to kiss, pout and promise to make it up to you later?"

"Familiar with the niceties of impotence, Malfoy? I'd say I'm surprised given your reputation but that would be an outright lie." She muttered to him dryly, venturing from the shadows as she waved and returned Reina's lively smile.

"Having dated Weaselboy for seven years, I'm sure those excuses are as familiar as your own heartbeat."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know, I think I'd rather risk my neck on one of those Hippogriffs than stand around and suffer your ear piercing whine."

Loping onto the lawn, she growled as she heard the rustle of clothing and the patter of footsteps as Malfoy followed behind her.

"You're not seriously contemplating getting on one of those monsters are you?"

Hermione snorted. "God…I'd cross the river Styx if it meant you couldn't follow."

An indignant sputter followed her comment. "Then why are you here, Granger? Why. Are. You. Here?"

Aurelio turned to smile at her upon her approach and the white toothed grin was infectiously beautiful as Hermione found herself grinning back.

"To give me something pretty to look at every day, Draco." Came that rolling Spanish accent. "Though you are quite a sight for sore eyes, yourself." A lascivious wink followed and Hermione giggled, not bothering to stifle the sound as Malfoy sent her a vicious glare. Oh if looks could kill.

Reina let loose a torrent of her signature hiccupping giggles as Aurelio kissed Hermione on the cheek and moved off to retrieve his own mount. The lushly dark creature with plumage of chocolate veined with gold matched Aurelio's exotic looks to a T and as the Spaniard bowed, the Hippogriff returned the gesture instantly, allowing Aurelio to spring into the patent leather saddle with grace and ease. Taking up the reins, he trotted the creature over towards Reina and Hermione smirked as she noted Draco's unease.

"Come, beauty. You may ride with me. Hold me close when the thrill overcomes you."

A teasing smile accompanied his offer to Hermione; a smile which deepened when he noted Malfoys frown. "Come now querido," he said to the disgruntled blond, "don't be jealous, you know my heart belongs to you…always." Aurelio finished breathily.

Hermione bit her lip to hold in the bark of laughter that bubbled with unladylike exuberance in her throat. Reina, having retrieved her own silvery mount had no such qualms and burst into a gale hiccupping laughter. She stopped before Hermione and offered her hand.

"Come darling. We need not hunt; a flight would do just as well."

Malfoy's eyes snapped to her, narrowing menacingly as he stepped towards her. "Don't." He growled.

Confused and peeved by his words, Hermione did something utterly immature and totally uncharacteristically spontaneous; she grabbed onto Reina's hand and pulled herself onto the Hippogriff with ease. Settling herself into the saddle and adjusting her knees upon the joint of the wing, she stuck her tongue out at her childhood tormenter, inexplicable pleased by the flash of anger she saw on his face.

"Granger." He growled, stalking towards her. "You don't have the first clue how to ride this overgrown rat, get down here now before…eep!" A pitchy squeal ripped from his throat as Reina's silvery Hippogriff lunged at him on its hind legs, claws curled and at the ready, slashing thin air as Malfoys seeker reflexes saved him by a bare whisper.

"Hell! You dirty rodent, how dare you –"

Both women gasped as the silvery Hippogriff reared onto its hind-legs once more, intent on injuring its defamer. Before things could get out of hand, Hermione circled Reina's waist and made a grab for reins, pulling hard to one side and forcing the creature to turn away from its prey.

"If you value your pretty face, Malfoy, I strongly suggest you run."

Malfoy turned to her with a strangely beatific smile. "You think I'm pretty?"

A bark of laughter from Reina punctuated the air as Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. With the reins still in hand and her knees nudging firmly at the silvery flanks beneath her, she urged the Hippogriff away, allowing it free reign as it loped sinuously away to join a pack mate across the lawn. She handed the leather back to the chuckling woman before her who retrieved them with a smile over her shoulder.

"Estás listo? Ready?" Reina inflected as Hermione felt the woman lean intently forward, clasping the reins like an expert horsewoman as she urged the creature on. Before she could reply, wide, yawning wings spread with snap and a whiplash like jerk announced their change in pace from leisurely stroll to a mad dash.

And suddenly they were airborne. Hermione's stomach plummeted uncomfortably her she screamed into the back of Reina's coat. "Down…put me down. I hate flying!"

"Too late now!" Came the screaming and laughing reply. "This darling is on the loose!" At the pinnacle of their ascent, the Hippogriff's wings seemed to seize mid-beat and as it leant forward, it spiralled into a breath taking dive, plummeting with unfettered speed as the land rushed up to meet them.

With her hair in wild disarray and skirts rippling like a flag in a storm, Hermione screamed with both exhilaration and terror while Reina laughed manically before her. Just as Hermione became sure that her body was about to become unpleasantly pulverised fertiliser, their mount pulled up with an effortless beat of its wings, dragging them upright with crushing force as they skimmed mere feet from the grassy knoll. The ground dropped away an instant later, giving way to dark, rippling waters which stretched to the horizon.

They lifted and veered away from the large body of water, turning and venturing even farther from the manor as they spotted Aurelio and his mount gliding through the air above them. Hermione took the opportunity to admire him as Reina steered towards her brother. She turned and shot Hermione a knowing look as they both approached the wind ruffled male, his hair beautiful in its disarray and a bow and quiver strapped to his lean back.

The lush brown leather of his arm guard stood out against his white ensemble as she he turned and shot them a reckless grin.

"Catch anything yet, Reina?" He yelled over the turbulent air.

"Nada. We civilised females, in contrast to you feral males, do not feel the need to harm innocent creatures to justify our sexuality." Reina shouted back.

"Here, here!" Hermione ventured with a laugh.

"Querida, you wound me."

Reina swooped them away, giving free reign to their swift mount once more, allowing another hair raising dive this time into a dip between the rolling hills of the landscape and then a last minute ascent just as the overcast day released a light mist of moisture promising rain.

"Hey!" She leant forward, trying to reach Reina's ear. "Maybe we should return."

The Spaniard laughed with delight, closing her eyes as she turned her face into the wind, allowing the drizzle to wet her face just as the skies opened and the torrential downpour began.

Hermione screamed and huddled closer to her companion as the heavy rain turned into punishing needles of water. She was soaked through within seconds, her hair a bedraggled mess stuck like paste down her back and wrapping clinging tendrils around her bare arm.

Reina was still laughing hysterically when the first rumble of thunder sounded and her mirth was abruptly cut off as the Hippogriff lurched in agitation, spooked by the noise. Pulling at its own reins, the creature attempted to follow instinct and land but both and the women grabbed for the reins, knowing that the area bellow them was too dense with vegetation to land without harm.

Fear bloomed with an acrid taste in Hermione's mouth as the reins slipped in her hands, making the grip difficult and their struggle useless. Her seat in the saddle suddenly felt precarious as the Hippogriff swerved midair in its own terror.

Lightening appeared on the horizon with flash and an ominous bolt landed closer, almost seeming to brush their sides, the air electric around them. With a roaring screech, the reins were torn from their hands and the Hippogriff made for the woods, diving for land with unsteady and frantic wings.

"Hold on!" Reina screamed as she made another grab for the reins, unsuccessfully. Hermione clutched at Reina's tunic, the mess of sequins and crystals cutting into her skin. Muttering in Spanish, she threw herself forward, arm outstretched once more just as their mount made another dive.

In a frozen moment, Hermione felt the sequins and crystals rip through her skin and out of her hands as Reina slipped over the Hippogriff's neck, plunging into the leafy treetops just a few feet below them. Before she could work up a scream or scramble for her wand, Hermione felt the powerful body beneath her give and tilt precariously. Her seat slipped from beneath her and she felt herself plunge into rain drenched air before the sharp impact of the tree top hit her back. A pained scream ripped from her throat as branches gripped then tore at her, tumbling her through the dense growth until a sharp pain against her head made the world fade to black.

* * *

The sky was a pearlescent blue when she opened eyes. Shapes of cotton candy sheep floated across the heavens, seen like the view through a spyglass. The treetops parted in one inconvenient spot, shining the blazing afternoon sun into her eyes as shadows and starbursts floated across her vision like dancers.

She felt vaguely…soggy, as if she had been lying in a shower of rain rather than sunshine. Shifting with discomfort, she was tickled to remember a fairytale she had once been told where an unfortunate creature such as herself had too been subjected to this inconvenience. The poor princess, that mountain of mattresses and that meddlesome little pea; how had story ended again?

Huh…there was a prince…handsome, a sensibly delighted royal who swept away the lost princess and saved her from the pea…but probably not from her future mother-in-law.

The prince came with the surety of a new dawn; handsome as the day was long atop his white steed…well actually it was stick, more like staff protruding from between his legs. She snickered at her own joke; it was the brothers Grimm told by the voice of a procurer.

He descended from the opportune hole in the canopy, his face marred by a severe frown and she wondered if he found her lacking in some way. Oh dear, in order to fulfil the happily ever after requirement of the story, he needed to find her somewhat pretty.

The prince's feet landed with a muted thud on the grass and he dropped the staff from between his legs – shame – and leapt towards her, his dark cape fluttering behind him. White blond hair met her gaze, along with pinched, anxious features as a dark guttural voice stroked her ears.

"Granger. Fuck, Granger, are you alright?"

She frowned. Princes did not curse at ladies or use foul profanities. It was against the knightly code of honour and valour and…and…

"Granger!" His large hands grasped her gently by the arms, holding her still as if he feared she would break. "Hermione. Fuck, Granger can you hear me? Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth to reply, startled by the voice that rattled unsteadily out of her throat. "Beware your use of language, good sir. I am a lady and you must address me as such!"

The prince stared at her intently, his eyebrows curving into his hairline as she stared. "I see." He released her as gently as he had held her. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Will you remove the pea from beneath this dreadful contrivance?" She queried anxiously, attempting to move.

"How many fingers am I holding up, Granger?" The prince showed her his hand as he stilled her with the other.

She attempted to comply with the odd request, squinting at the proffered digits with growing unease. Her head began to throb with the effort and she closed her eyes anxiously, blocking out the light, attempting to alleviate the pain.

"My…my head hurts."

The prince smiled…smirked more like. "Yes. You have a bump the size of an ostrich egg on you head. Attractive." He shook that magnificent head of hair. "Can you wiggle you fingers and toes for me, Granger?"

Outraged, she batted his hand away from her side. "I do not care for your manner of fetish, sir. Please take your rakish ways elsewhere!"

He rolled his eyes but held his hands up in surrender. "Look Granger –"

"You may address me as _Your Highness_, you bumbling, foul-mouthed lack-wit!"

He shot her a long-suffering look. "Ok…I know you haven't been lost in this forest long enough to resort to living off hallucinogenic magic mushrooms, so I'm going to chalk this up to a severe concussion –"

"You are no doctor, sir! Do not diagnose me with your plebeian presumptions." She struggled unsteadily to her feet, teetering for a few moments as she waited for the world around her to stop spinning. "I…I am quite giddy."

The prince turned away, his shoulders shaking while she stared.

"You laugh at my misfortune!" She accused with a pointed finger. "You sir, are no gentleman!"

He swung back, a bright handsome smile alight upon his face. "I will endeavour to behave myself, Gra…err, your highness." He offered a bow then a supportive hand and pulled her gently forward. Summoning the odd staff he had flown in with, he set it to hover, seated her upon it and mounted the device behind her.

As a solid, warm arm encircled her waist and they took flight, she gasped. "What manner of witchery is this? Are you a child of the devil?"

"Lucius has been called worse." He murmured in her ear and the feel was so intimate as the world rushed past beneath them that she felt a moment of complete and utter panic, so intense that it precipitated a period of manic struggle.

The heavy arm around her clamped down with bruising force and a panicked scream tore from her throat. Fear caused her eyes to water as she strived to dig her nails into the flesh of his forearm.

"Granger!" The brute addressed her. "Look woman, if you don't stop struggling this minute, I will set this broom down and...and…have my wicked way with you!"

She froze and swung to watch him with horrified eyes. "No sir, I beg of you. I am of virgin flesh and untutored in the ways of the marriage bed…you, you must resist the temptation, though the call of sin is understandably great."

The prince lowered his face to the curve of her throat so that she could no longer see his expression. He took a few heaving breaths as she waited with baited breath, his "broom" hovered in mid air as he collected himself, or so she presumed.

His head lifted at last, his expression a picture of gravity. "Though it was a great struggle, I have hold of myself. Your virtue shall remain untouched madam."

The broom sped forward once more as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. I apologise for my earlier ill-mannered outbursts, I was too hasty in my judgement. You are a king among men."

The prince's lips quivered then firmed, his struggle with the demon of vice worn like a badge of merit. He cleared his throat and temporarily released her waist to gesture at an approaching house in the distance.

"Yonder…"

"Yonder?" She laughed and stared. "What age do you exist in? Why; that expression in positively medieval."

He sent her a laconic look. "What year do you think it is?"

"Why it's 1820 by grace of the King. A wondrous time for peace and prosperity among the Christian kingdoms."

Her prince looked at her, his gaze steady with what she fancied to be budding affection and dare she hope, love. Likely confounded by her charm, beauty and wit, he chose instead to bring her attention to the approaching manor which he circled with skill and ease before he set them down on the immaculate back lawn.

As soon as her feet touched grass, strong arms swept her up against a hard male chest and she demurred, as was appropriated for the situation at hand. "Dear Sir, I do not even know you name."

"Draco Malfoy, Knight and apparently, Prince of the realm, your highness." He smiled down at her as an older couple approached. Judging by the resemblance to the fair prince, she was in presence of his royal relations.

"What's wrong with her?" Enquired the long haired King.

Prince Malfoy smiled. "What do you mean father? She's always been like this…but you might want to call for a healer, just to be safe."

"Oh." She blushed. "Your majesties, the trouble is not necessary; the royal physician is likely occupied with great men of the state. An experienced apothecary would do very well."

The King and Queen turned to her slowly, their gazes intent and piercing as each weighed her words. Slightly embarrassed by the spectacle of being prostrate in the Prince's arms, she lowered her lashes and gazed upon her saviour from beneath them, assured by his ready smile and good teeth.

"I am quite fatigued from my adventure, your highness…" She murmured quietly, hoping she would be spared the audience of his parents until such time as she could change her dress and comb her tresses then present herself in a better light. Being a candidate for royal marriage was no easy chore.

Prince Malfoy nodded his acquiescence, sparing his parents one last look as he swung her toward the distant staircase, his hold easy and unfaltering, even when ordinary men would have felt the exertion.

"Is this your summer palace, your highness?" She enquired curiously, admiring the flood of light and the rich interior.

"Why yes. Our ruling seat exists as a palace among the clouds. Dozens of spacious wings, five towering spires, a stable full of winged unicorns and feasts prepared by the most diligent of pixies; their attention to detail when it comes to flavour is really quite exquisite."

"Truly?" She asked, enchanted. "How magical!"

Her dear prince nodded solemnly. "And at night, fearsome berserker warriors guard the palace, the city and its people mounted atop golden griffins whose cries are said to halt the hearts of the most seasoned soldiers."

Awe raced through her as her mind conjured a phantasm of creatures, each more wondrous than the last. Images of the night sky alight with fiery stars and days spent amongst the silk luxury of clouds engulfed her senses as her heart soared with the beauty.

"Tell me more!" She demanded breathily. "What other manner of magical creatures exist?"

Her prince frowned, his gaze suddenly serious. "Well…they're not all innocent and helpmates of man. Like the mortal world, here too, there are creatures of horror and great evil which exist to prey on the unfortunate."

"Like what?" Chills pricked her skin.

"Hagrids." Prince Malfoy said grimly.

"Hagrids? What are they?" Her breath gone, she huddled close to the man carrying her up the stairs.

He shook his head and sighed most heartily. "Half man, half beast. They exist in fog drenched moors, felling unwary travellers, suffocating those innocent men and women in his great body of hair and fur. At first glance, they have the look of a monstrous bear but soon you smell the stench and hear the baying of their hungry hounds. It is truly, a horrible sight…but it is made worse by the presence of Weaselbees and Hairy Pratters."

"What manner of beasts are they?" She queried, horrified but morbidly curious.

Prince Malfoy shook his head wearily. "They are a pestilence upon this world. Hairy Pratters are small ugly creatures which dare roam the light of day; they bask in sun, emit the most heinous of calls and feast on the carrion left by Hagrids. And Weaselbees, well, they are quite horrifying too. Orange furred and voracious devourers of all manners of waste, they can breed several litters a year, spawning dozens of offspring each time. They follow the Hairy Pratters and gorge on the carrion which is left –"

She cried and pleaded halt. "Oh say no more, my prince. They are truly nightmares made flesh!"

"My apologies for distressing you, dear lady." He nodded to her sagely as he carried her through an ornate pair of doors. A sizeable bed loomed within and she was instantly unnerved to note that she was quite alone with a man, in the intimacy of the sleeping quarters.

His strong arms lifted her onto the sweetly scented sheets, wiping his brow with a sigh as her mind urged her to move away.

She shuffled away upon her knees, frowning as the prince eyed her with great intensity. Could he…could he be losing his battle with the demon of lust which surely lurked in every man, royal born or not?

He seemed only to confirm her fears as he too, shifted to kneel upon the bed, facing her as he slowly unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. A sliver of fair, male flesh met her eye and the erotic bob of his Adam's apple sent her into a frenzy of overstimulation.

"You seem to be breathing rather heavily, dear lady." He commented as his eyes dipped lasciviously below her neckline.

"Oh you brute, you…you…" Panting and perspiring with great effort, she dropped her eyes to her décolletage and noted with great agitation that her chest rose and fell heavily with each frantic breath.

She perceived movement from him and held up a hand to ward away his unwanted attentions. "You must resist my heaving bosom sir, for I…"

Dizziness encompassed her in that moment and darkness enshrouded her in a haze of panic and tumult.

* * *

Granger was acting like a bloody lunatic, her hair wild, her arms waving about like an angered chimpanzee as she screamed about her "heaving bosom".

Draco watched with amusement laden with alarm as she continued to pant, then like a broken puppet, her eyes rolled back and she began swaying precariously on her knees. Before he thought to catch her, she pitched forward and rather unceremoniously landed face first in his crotch.

It was in this state that Narcissa found them.

"Knock, knock, Draco, the healer has flooed over from St. Mungo's, I…" Her jaw seemed destined to hit the floor.

He knew how it must look. There he was, kneeling on the bed with a formerly conscious and somewhat manic woman with his hands buried in her hair and her face in a dangerously telling spot. The situation was not helped when both his father and the somewhat wizened healer stepped in too.

Oh, what the hell, he scoffed, the more the merrier, too bad he still had his pants on.

Lucius however, did not seem to share in his opinion; a threatening glare spearing him as the infamous Malfoy temper made for an additional awkward visitor to their charming little party.

The ancient looking healer, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about their rather precarious position. He shuffled over with an indecipherable grunt, took out his wand and began casting diagnoses spells which glowed blue over Hermione's still prostrate body.

"No broken bones." He grunted, this time at a pitch audible and comprehensible to human ears. The healer lifted her head unceremoniously from Draco's lap, took in the minor scratches with a careless glance and dropped her straight onto his crotch once more. He probed the swelling on the back of Hermione's head, muttering a spell before he tucked his wand into his robes once more.

Alarmed, Draco watched the healer shift away.

"I don't get paid enough for this."

Narcissa looked at the wizened old wizard. "What was that?"

"Put this salve on her cuts and abrasions. Floo me if she develops a fever." He unceremoniously shoved a small serviceable jar into Narcissa's hands and slipped out the bedroom door. Before it could close, however, Reina slipped in, nursing her arm in a sling and worrying her bottom lip.

"Is she alright? Was she…"

Her sentence was abruptly cut when Aurelio bumbled into her back, swinging the door wide open.

"I just heard! Poor querida, to be so unlucky…"

He too was interrupted as Macario waddled in, holding his girth as he feared he would topple over from his own momentum.

"Niña! Oh, I will tear a strip off Reina's hide for her recklessness…"

"Where is she?" Came a shrieking demand. Augusta Zabini barrelled into the room, her son bemusedly in tow. "I will not have it said that my idea caused harm to a Gryffindor war hero; it is a gross misinterpretation of the facts at hand…"

"Mother!" Blaise hissed.

The Kobayashi twins clunked in with their wooden sandals, inane giggles perfectly in sync as they each took one of Blaise's arms. Their parents followed soon after, bowing like bobble heads as they spotted the ensemble of esteemed guests within the room.

An Indian procession pushed them aside, their army of colourfully dressed servants bearing incense and food as they enquired after the patient in perfect British accents.

His parents bristled and turned accusing eyes on him. He could do little more than shrug.

"Better hand me that jar then."

* * *

Hermione awoke to a world of aches as morning sunshine streamed through the open drapes and into her eyes. Lifting each eyelid was a disturbing chore and she barely managed to lift her head off the pillow before firm hands pushed upon her shoulders, urging her down again.

"I am so sorry, Hermione."

Turning her head to the right, she spotted Reina perched guiltily at the edge of an ornate armchair, Crookshanks in her lap.

Vague memories of a rain storm and falling off the damned Hippogriff presented itself in Hermione's mind and she groaned, searching for any memory of what happened after.

"It's not your fault." She murmured to the other woman. "Stupid creature got spooked and threw us." Hermione swallowed dryly, winced and reached for the water at her bedside. "Were you hurt?"

Reina smiled and rolled her eyes. "Pulled my shoulder and sprained my wrist. The healer says I should refrain from riding Hippogriffs for the next week or so, at least until my ligaments knit together again."

Hermione winced sympathetically, wincing again as the movement of her facial muscles caused her a twinge of pain. "What happened anyway, did you bring me back?"

Reina smiled tremulously. "No…I, well no. Tell me, how much do you remember?"

* * *

**A/N: Yes. Hermione is back to normal...her brain was just a little knocked about via concussion...the strange alternate personality...not medically accurate but in the world of the HP fandom, late night wine, too many regency romance novels and that crap happens to the best of us.**

**Hope you enjoyed this latest installment...it barely made it...addictions with ebay really take their toll!**

**Twilight to Midnight  
**


	4. Monday

**Disclaimer:** JKR, I bow to your genius!

**A/N:** A little late but still here. Be warned, things get a little frisky in the last part. I hope you all remembered that this story is meant to be filled with lemons. FUN!

The reason this chapter almost never appeared is because I've been doing a lot reading myself and well...don't you just wish you could send your favourite authors a list of requirements and get them to churn out the stories you want to read? There just isn't enough sexy Draco out there to appease me!

* * *

_I am your mother; if I tell you the sky is green and the grass is blue then you'd better just nod and agree with me! - _My darling if not mostly delusional mum

Monday

"Did you get it?"

The dark skinned witch smiled with sinister delight. "Of course. Had to jump through a few rather unsavoury hoops but the potion is quintessentially undetectable, no taste, no scent and ideally individualised."

"Thank Merlin; it was near impossible to get the hair sample I needed."

"So we have a deal?"

"We have a deal. You may rely on my help when the need arises."

A glowing vial was produced and exchanged hands with prodigious care. With something almost akin to reverence, it was set upon the dark stone countertop where a variety of other ingredients sat, arranged in a haphazard manner around a central bowl of mixture.

"You're sure it's the most potent concentration available?"

The dark skinned witch smiled witheringly, lowering the hood of her cloak before she took a seat on the scarred stool next to the bench top. Her aquiline nose crinkled with disdain as she rain a single finger across the white powdered mess. "Yes. Our little potion masters strongly recommend you handle the potion with protective gloves…"

The blonde's head shot up instantly. "Speaking of our little potion masters…they didn't recognise you? They –?"

"Don't worry, Cissa."

"Don't worry? Don't worry? That's what you said about the Hippogriffs and look what the hell happened. What if the girl's condition had been permanent? Where would my son be then?"

Augusta raised her hand in surrender, a bewildered expression latent on her face. "I apologised for that. How was I to know she'd fall?" She patted Narcissa's hand reassuringly. "George Weasley had no idea who I was or why I requested the special formula…"

Narcissa Malfoy huffed and brushed back one silky lock of hair with flour coated hands. "Good. If George Weasley figured it out then he'd tell that Ronald and we'd all be down the river without a paddle."

"Down the river without a what?"

"Without a paddle. It's a propellant device used by boating or canoeing Muggles. My hairdresser enjoys the expression."

Augusta sent her a curious look but quelling look. "Right. Well, rest assured that Master Weasley simply supposed me to be another love-sick female…"

"A mistake no one who knew or understood you would ever make."

Augusta snorted in amusement before she continued. "In fact, lovely boy that he was, added a special ingredient just for me."

Narcissa stirred the mixture in the bowl with a curious glance.

"Don't you worry about that. It'll simply help speed the process along."

A few moments of silence reigned as Narcissa continued to stir. "What do you think?" she asked as she tilted the bowl for the other woman to see.

"I think you should've allowed the house elves to do this. Look at this kitchen; it looks like a pack of gnomes got into your supply of chocolate and oysters and had a kink party."

Narcissa growled, dropping the bowl with little ceremony as she propped her hands on hips, leaving white dusty handprints on her dark robes. "What do you think of the batter?"

"It looks fine." Augusta raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this place is hygienic?"

Both women looked around the run down and somewhat dank interior of the old wing of the manor. Ancient stoves sat still and cool in the corner, covered in dust and years of cobwebs. The table upon which they rested was so old, the stone had begun to discolour and the surrounding walls showed peeling wallpaper and flaking paint.

Narcissa shrugged. "I couldn't think of anywhere else and I didn't want to involve the house elves. Lucius didn't think this was such a good idea, the stick in the mud, so I thought the fewer witnesses, the better."

Augusta Zabini laughed with a huff. "That is why I enjoy single life. No man tells me what I can and cannot do."

"Lucius would never dare." Narcissa said with an amused smirk. "But he certainly isn't a 'yes dear, no dear' kind of man."

The blonde threw in another spoonful of sugar with a negligent shrug. "Alright. Throw in the love potion."

A remarkably small trickle of bright blue liquid was poured in and the colour faded almost immediately into the creamy batter. Narcissa stirred gleefully one last time and set it aside. "Good. Wish me luck, Augusta."

"May you have a dozen beautiful grandchildren to dote on soon, Cissa."

* * *

Hell had frozen over…or heaven was enacting a very sick practical joke.

Draco Malfoy was sitting calmly across from her in ruffled pink taffeta, sipping tea from a delicate cup and wearing the most hideously large stiletto heels Hermione ever had the misfortune of laying her eyes on.

His silvery gaze was almost resigned as he returned her perusal, raising that tiny teacup to his lips again for another sip.

Around them, the party was ablaze with laughter; the flashes of cumbersome, magical cameras highlighting an already bright, sunny day.

"That colour suits you, Malfoy."

"Thank you."

"You must be very secure in your sexuality to pull it off."

"I am."

"You've smudged your lipstick."

"Have I? How clumsy of me."

He opened his little matching pink handbag, retrieved a small compact and dabbed the corner of his lips with his napkin. He also powdered his nose as Hermione watched, fascinated.

"The cut of your dress is truly flattering."

"The latest fashion, straight from Paris."

"I'm sure it is."

"Don't worry, Granger. This isn't another one of your dime-store novel fantasies."

Hermione flushed angrily. "Don't remind me. I'm still not sure if I believe you."

Malfoy calmly took another sip of his tea before he deigned to speak. "About the virginal damsel in distress personality switch or about the amusing but inopportune face-in-my-crotch moment?"

"Sweet Merlin's britches," Hermione muttered to herself as she rubbed her temples with tense fingers, "Any moment now, I'm going to wake up, safe, sane and sober in my own bed and this will all have been a terrible nightmare."

"Do you often have elaborate, disturbing dreams involving me in a pink taffeta dress?"

"Yes, but you're usually a bouncing white ferret in a pink taffeta dress."

"So you admit you dream about me?"

"Often. They habitually end with you screaming in hideous pain."

"Really? Do you prefer to deep fry and serve me to a horde of ravenous piss poor Weasleys in a soup kitchen or do you let your repulsive excuse for a cat rip me to ribbons and eat my entrails?"

"There's usually castration with a rusty butcher's knife involved."

"Unimaginative at best, Granger. Tell me, how do you like my cock?"

"Difficult to find. A magnifying glass or better yet a microscope often comes in handy."

"A misconception, easily remedied if you simply care to lift my skirt."

"Years of expensive therapy couldn't prepare me for that."

"It is a monster but I promise, with a little yoga and some creative preparation, it'll fit inside you just fine."

Hermione knew on a physical level that her hearing was working just fine but mentally, some part of her just hadn't been prepared to hear Draco Malfoy, of all people, propositioning her…in a sexual manner. A slow blush crawled up her neck and insinuated itself onto her cheeks as she fought for words which refused to be forthcoming.

Fingers walked themselves up her thigh and Hermione pushed them off with a startled squeak. Thank Merlin she was wearing pants; skin-on-skin contact would have been too much.

"I hit my head, Malfoy. I have an excuse to act erratically and proposition your mother's rose bushes if the fancy struck me but you…you…you're just…"

"I want to fuck you." He said, his gaze suddenly heated.

"What?" She hissed and shuffled away, as far as she could get on the small square of the picnic blanket. "What the hell are you sipping from that teacup? Absinthe? That stuff is notorious for triggering latent schizophrenia you know!"

A large bundle of fluorescent yellow tulle, organza and nylon tumbled into her lap and Hermione screeched. She spat out a mouthful of starched netting, pushing down the puff of the tutu as strong arms looped around her neck and a beautiful smiling face blocked her view of a scowling Malfoy.

"Aurelio." She sighed out with a relieved smile.

"Darling, how do you like my dress?"

Hermione looked at his long, toned body encased in the glaring yellow material and stifled her laughter. "You look stunning. Even Reina couldn't pull off this unique colour."

"I am spectacular." Aurelio murmured with feigned modesty.

"I believe the term is _fabulous_, Vasquez." Draco returned with bite.

"Well I am that too." Aurelio stroked back a wild curl of Hermione's hair and studied her with careful scrutiny from her lap. "You look great in this suit. It highlights your shape incredibly…my goodness, look at those cute little bubbies."

Hermione laughed raucously and Aurelio dropped his head and rubbed his face in her open shirt front, making her squirm as he teasingly blew in a breath of air.

"Don't you just love drag queen picnics?" Aurelio asked as he lifted his head for air.

"I don't know; this is my first time."

Aurelio huffed with laughter. "Oh ho, a virgin!"

An amused snort came from the unknown man who sat next to Hermione. "Really now? Malfoy, here I thought you would've remedied that long ago!"

Malfoy shot both Aurelio and her damning looks. "Questioning my virility, Malcolm? People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Married for three years and still no wailing Malcolm junior in sight."

"Screw you, Malfoy."

"No thanks, Hermione is doing a fine job of that already."

Hermione spluttered indignantly at the blatant lie but Aurelio descended into a gale of laughter. "Oh querida, well done. That is high praise indeed, coming from Malfoy."

She pushed Aurelio off her lap and lunged forward onto her knees. She grabbed onto what she could grasp of his dipping décolletage and yanked him forward.

"What's wrong with you, Malfoy? What the hell are you –?"

"Now children," Narcissa interrupted, dressed quite normally and bearing a gilded silver tray. A dozen miniature éclairs sat atop, glazed with dark chocolate and filled with dollops of smooth cream. She proffered the tray towards Draco with an affectionate smile. "Your favourite darling, have some; you're all skin and bones."

Hermione released the bodice of his dress with a blush. She settled back into her seat with an embarrassed cough, easily recalling the promise she had made to Lucius to conduct herself with some measure of grace. Narcissa however, either hadn't noticed or simply didn't care. The blonde smiled with a brilliant beauty though Draco's attention was still focused on Hermione, his face twisted into an indecipherable expression.

"I'm not particularly hungry, mother. Perhaps…"

"Just one." Narcissa pushed the tray into his hands, her smile becoming almost sharp in its fixation.

Draco took the éclairs with a frown, his attention never wavered. When his mother nudged him, he shot her a sardonic glance and ate one simply to appease her. As he chewed, Narcissa seemed almost to wilt with relief.

"Have a few more," Narcissa urged with a push, "I made them especially for you."

Hermione swung towards her with a strained smile. "You bake, Lady Malfoy? They look quite impressive."

"They are spectacular, Lady Malfoy." Malcolm interrupted from beyond her shoulder and Draco shoved the tray unceremoniously into his hands. He leant forward on his knees and Hermione heard Narcissa squeak but ignored it as Draco came dangerously close.

"Oh Granger, if we were alone…the things I'd do to you."

"Then I'll thank every deity ever worshipped that we're not alone because I'm sure I'd vomit all over you pretty pink shoes if you laid even one finger on me."

A hand latched insistently onto her wrist and Hermione looked up with a surprised start, meeting the eyes of an anxious Narcissa who tugged at her until even Draco looked up to see the cause of his mother's sudden unease.

"Hermione dear! I…I've just bought this lovely dress and I would love to have you opinion on it…"

"Surely that can wait, mother? Hermione and were in the middle of a very fascinating discussion."

"No it can't wait, Draco! Why don't you just come with us?" She hissed.

Draco's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "To see your dress?"

"Yes!" She replied urgently as she eyed his pink taffeta number. "Your father may be in an apoplexy over your antics but I support you whatever your fancies, Draco. Now come, indulge your poor old mother…"

"Mother, you're hardly old…" Draco said with a smile.

Hermione felt the grip on her wrist tighten and she rose to allow for the accompanying tug at her shoulder. Draco stood with them and laid his own hand upon her.

"Oh hush with the empty flattery; we need to – Oh Merlin!"

Hermione's head snapped up at the exclamation just as a flurry of purple silk rush towards them and launched itself upon Draco. A mass of pink and purple material landed upon the ground with a heavy thud and a tangle of limbs began to grapple.

"She's mine! Don't touch her!" Came the shrill scream.

"Malcolm Napoli, get off my son this instant!" Narcissa screeched as she released Hermione. With a startling show of agility, she too launched herself into the fray, throwing remarkably well aimed punches. Despite this, Draco and Malcolm ignored her vehement screeches which were becoming so loud that they had begun to attract attention from the separate party of the older guests.

From the distance, Hermione could see Lucius' light summer robes as he stood with a start and began racing towards them with his hair flying haphazardly behind him. At his actions, Hermione snapped from her stupor and grappled clumsily at her robes, searching for her wand. Not used to the unfamiliar male garments, she struggled until a hand stilled her and pulled her back from the growing crowd.

The neon yellow netting was telling sign of identity but the hot, firm arm which snaked around her seemed inexplicably unfamiliar. A nervous flutter started in her stomach and she squirmed to face her captor. Aurelio was standing flush with her body, his eyes more fervent than she had ever seen. There seemed to be a glaze over his eyes as he stared down at her, his mouth descending with alarming speed towards hers.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream but it was quickly muffled.

Heated Spanish flowed like a raging river from his lips until he kissed her harshly, forcing his tongue into her mouth until Hermione felt like biting him just so he would release her. She was becoming rather light headed when he finally decided to release her lips, allowing her one breath before the rapid fire Spanish began again and his lips descended once more with telling intentions.

"Aurelio!" She snapped, swatting at his face. "What is wrong with everyone today? Let me –"

"Oh querida, do not worry, our love is a force stronger than the pull of the moon, more beautiful than a galaxy of stars, more fierce than a blazing flame, more…"

Panic overwhelmed her. She was Hermione Granger, she did not do blazing flames or galaxies of stars. She squirmed uselessly against him and watched horrified as Macario along with several other guests approached them with barely disguised glee.

"That's a true Vasquez!" Macario boomed with pride, thumping his chest as he clutched a smoking cigar. "We leap upon the women we want!"

"What?" She squeaked as Aurelio began a subtle dance with her in his arms.

Hermione wriggled desperately to get out of his arms.

Aurelio seemed determined to misunderstand. "Yes, my love. Move to the rhythm of our passions." He groaned loudly, thrusting his hips and a very impressive bulge into the softness of her abdomen. "I want you, my beauty. Sí! Sí! Rub against me my flame; oh how you stir my inner beast. You shall tame that animal my sweet, you shall –"

"Stupefy!"

Aurelio's body sagged limply into her arms and Hermione cried out in surprise as the dead weight overbalanced her and started dragging her to the ground.

"Aurelio!" Macario Vasquez shouted as the cigar fell from his lax mouth. "What…what…"

Still wielding his wand, his lip split and his hair in complete disarray, Draco Malfoy stalked towards her with that now familiar glaze to his eyes. He pulled Aurelio's prone body from her arms with a violent jerk, discarding him like a rag doll onto the nearby grass.

"MINE!" he roared just as Lucius reached their riotous party and pulled Narcissa from the fight.

Hermione barely comprehended the chaos that was occurring, watching with shock as Malcolm staggered to his feet, limping towards her as he left a trail of blood and a screaming wife behind him.

"Hermione, my love!" He shouted to her as Malfoys firm arm yanked her to her feet.

"I don't know you!" She offered desperately. "Oh Merlin, what on earth is going on?"

Draco growled an incoherent reply and hefted her onto his shoulders with an incomprehensible surge of strength. He grasped her backside with a firm smack and proceeded down the hill towards the manor boundaries.

"Malfoy, you fucking lunatic! What are you doing? Put me down, this instant, do you understand me? Ferret! Ferret! YOU…YOU DIMWITTED RODENT!" She squirmed desperately in his hold, throwing herself sideways until she nearly rolled off his shoulders.

Draco barely seemed to blink at her efforts. She was promptly repositioned like a sack of ill-behaving potatoes as he set off once more. The solid hand on her backside pressed down even harder and had the nerve to slip between her thighs and…

"OH MY GOD! YOU SLIMY PERVERT! Malfoy! Malfoy! MALFOY, TAKE YOU HAND OUT OF –"

In her panic, Hermione flailed wildly in his grasp. As she threw her head up to sweep the hair out of her eyes, she saw the boundary gates come into sight at her shoulder and with some rapid thinking, threw out her hands until she had a firm grasp of the wrought iron bars.

He grunted and jerked as their progress was impeded. Draco held her waist firmly despite her frantic kicking and gave her a few good tugs.

Hermione refused to let go. Just over the hill, she could still see the ensuing struggle and prayed that someone would come rescue her soon. Her internal ramblings were soon answered as Narcissa appeared on the hilltop. She sent Hermione an enthusiastic wave and blew her a kiss before she walked away. Bloody well walked away!

"Narcissa! Help me! Your son has lost his marbles…not that he had that many to begin with…ouch!" She screeched as a hand came down with an echoing smack against her arse. "Ferret, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to buy you ice cream."

Hermione clutched the bars harder. "What?"

"If you come with me, I'll buy you ice cream. I also have sweets in my pocket if you…"

"This isn't Hansel and Gretel, Malfoy! You can't lure me into your gingerbread house with the promise of treats…OH BLOODY HELL!"

His wandering hand had snaked under her waistband and was busy fondling her through her panties. "I'd like to eat you though, Hermione. Slow and languid, I'll savour every morsel."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She closed her eyes and summoned the strength to force down a scream. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening…"

She was dropped in an instant and Hermione screamed in terror, throwing out her hand to brace herself for the fall. She never hit the gravel however as seeker swift arms scooped her up and clasped her firmly to his hot body.

"Good girl." He purred as he walked her far enough from the gates to apparate away.

The crushing push of sensation came and went in a blink and when Hermione opened her eyes again, she was clearly no longer in Wiltshire.

Four walls of sky high tinted windows greeted her sight.

"You've kidnapped me." She whispered disbelievingly. "Draco Malfoy kidnapped Hermione Granger and is…MOLESTING ME!"

His hands were everywhere, digging thoroughly through every pocket until he found her wand. She made a wild grab for it but he tossed is away with a negligent flick of his wrist.

Hermione gathered her breath to scream but the look in his eye stopped her dead.

"Malfoy…what's wrong with you?" She stepped back and he mirrored her by stepping unhesitatingly forward.

"I love you, Hermione."

"No." She replied in an instant, her mind finally catching up with her as she processed the recent events. "No. Draco, listen to me. You were drugged. With a love potion…"

He took another step.

Hermione held up her hand to ward him off. "Stop this. Just take a deep breath. We can think through this…reason through it, I can whip up an antidote in no time. I've seen these symptoms and…"

"I don't want an antidote! I want to lick you…all over."

"No, ah, no." she tried desperately. "No licking, bad…umm, bad Draco. Uh…down boy!"

With a playful growl, he leapt for her, pinning her arms to her side instantly as she was lifted off her feet with no effort.

"Your mother! Think of your poor mother…she, she must be so worried about you and your father, my God, he may just barge in here and –"

Draco nipped at her throat as she tried desperately to squirm away. "We're at my penthouse. My parents don't have access through the wards. Nothing will interrupt our love-making."

"Love-making?" She squeaked and checked herself instantly; Hermione Granger did not squeak.

She squeaked again as a hot tongue licked the curve of her ear.

Draco bounded up a floating staircase with her still locked carefully in his arms. She watched the rooms and walls fly by until she was brought, squirming desperately, into a bedroom. Judging by the colour scheme, his bedroom.

She was thrown unceremoniously onto the bed and restraints snaked around her arms and legs, jerking her into a spread eagled position before she could draw breath to curse.

Wandless magic! The idea occurred to her in a frighteningly clear instant. She still had wandless magic even if she was disarmed…what had moody taught her?

Find her centre…yes that was it! Focus all energies inward, visualise…

Hermione screamed as fabric shredded loudly and the cool air conditioning within the room washed over her bare skin until her nipples puckered. It all fell away from her as her eyes snapped open, watching with frozen astonishment as Draco Malfoy jerked the dress from his own body, comically kicking off his stilettos with two flicks of his ankles before he leapt on top of her, covering her nudity with his own.

Six foot two inches of blatant, lithe, male flesh settled on top of her and his heat seeped from his skin into her flesh. Intense grey eyes watched her with care, a smile touching those cruelly sensual proud lips as he shifted down, taking advantage of her frozen state until he lunged forward and seized a nipple between his teeth.

He sucked her hard, sending heat and arousal in a direct path straight to her sex. Liquid pleasure filled her in an instant even as her mind continued to fight for clarity.

Love potion. Yes…that was it. Likely with an aphrodisiac. He was practically in something comparable to a mental stupor in his current state. She just needed to snap him out of it long enough to make him see reason. She had to shock him, take him unaware; she just needed a little distraction to help him wake up.

"Oh my God! Professor McGonagall with a leather whip!"

Draco chuckled against her nipple, punishing her with a little nip of his teeth before he returned to devouring her breast with wholehearted commitment.

Hermione moaned and bucked against him. Draco ground down against her with his hips, his hard cock, nudging her intimately.

"Umm…uh…Yeti in a bikini!"

Draco gave her breast a savouring lick and began sliding languorously down her body, nipping and kissing at her skin until he reached the apex of her thighs. He studied her obscenely spread body with unnerving intensity until he drew his wand.

In a panic, Hermione tried to recall her wandless training again. Find the centre, focus the energy, visualise the extension of her magic into her fingertips and…

Cold air brushed blatantly across the lips of her sex. Hermione screeched. "You miserable ferret! Did you just shave me?"

"Pretty pussy." He muttered with a smile. "I like you bare."

A heavy, firm hand settled on her stomach, stabilising her bucking hips as his tell-tale head of white blonde hair began to lower.

"No! Don't you dare, Malfoy! No! Stop!" Despite her protests, his hot breath against her inner thighs sent her writhing towards him.

"I think I like these lips of yours better. No teeth and no insults."

"STOP MALFOY! STOP IT! STOP!"

A hot sweeping tongue swept firmly across her liquid sex, surging deep before it curled teasingly around her clit. He sucked her deep and she screamed.

"DON'T STOP MALFOY! OH GOD, DON'T STOP!"


	5. Tuesday

Disclaimer: All recognisable attributes belong to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: So...I'm starting hospital placement again tomorrow. I am quite honestly bone tired and not looking forward to the next 36 weeks and I apologise if that is reflected in my writing. Have patience, my darlings.

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS PREDOMINANTLY UNASHAMED SMUT...there is no such thing as gratuitous sex!**

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* * *

Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions – Woody Allen_

Tuesday

"Malfoy!" Hermione struggled against her bonds, huffing as she blew a strand of flyaway hair from her eyes. She nudged him with her thigh again, willing him to wake up and release her. Her shoulders ached from the position she was tied in and her left leg was going steadily numb from the hip downwards.

"Malfoy." She tried again in a sing-song and somewhat hysterical voice. She groaned as once again, she received no answer. He'd licked and sucked her to orgasm for hours until she'd, quite wildly, begged him to release her so that she could mount him like a pony and ride him into oblivion. Draco had seemed quite open to the idea until she had watched with frustrated dismay as his eyelids drooped threateningly and his shoulders sagged against her hips.

With the last remnants of his strength, he had managed to roll over, pillowed his face against her left thigh and promptly lost consciousness. That had been roughly six hours ago and he hadn't stirred since. Which was really rather inconvenient as she felt uncomfortably sticky between the thighs and chilled everywhere.

Hermione lifted her head with some effort and peered at him as she rolled her thighs again in a vain attempt to wake him. Draco slept on. The love potion must have really done a number on him; if she was correct in her guess then the potion had likely contained a contraband aphrodisiac which had likely caused this bout of unrousable sleep.

Frustrated in more ways than one, she dropped her head onto the pillow again and tried to convince herself to get some sleep. She rolled her shoulders to relieve some of the tension and wriggled her toes to increase the blood flow. Taking the deep breaths perpetually encouraged by her former somewhat drugged, rarely lucid yoga instructor, she closed her eyes and willed sleep to come. It didn't.

Outside, the murky pre-dawn light began to seep through the dark blinds and another beautiful summer day was beginning. Even the weak light falling on her, however, irritated her. She was sensitised in every conceivable way and the only person who could ease it was lost in oblivion.

She willed herself to attempt wandless magic again. Hermione must have attempted a hundred times that night but all the restraints had done was dance teasingly before settling into disappointing stillness.

"_Rennervate_." She tried instead, aiming her spell at Draco.

A breathless pause later he groaned then stirred stiffly, rolling off her thigh and landing with a thump against the mattress, face down.

Hermione almost whimpered in relief. She watched what she could see of his face contort in dismay then confusion as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He seemed to tense for a moment as his head swung about wild, finally settling with unnerving intensity on her, more specifically, on her nipples which were pebbled in the cool room.

"You're naked." He stated unnecessarily as he pushed himself upright.

"Yes." She rolled eyes. "Well done. Your powers of observation are astounding."

His eyes took an annoyingly leisurely stroll down her body, pausing at strategic places until they lazily made their way back to her gaze. Hermione bared her teeth in a hiss as a telling smirk lit his features.

"Why Granger, who knew you would be so diligent trimming the bushes?"

"Shut up Malfoy and untie me." She ground out tensely. "And for your information, you rotten, foul mouthed pervert, you shaved me last night."

"Last night? In my sleep? Well done to the rotten, foul mouthed pervert."

Hermione groaned and began pulling desperately at the ropes on around her wrists. The sensation was unpleasant to say the least and the restraints bit deeply, leaving red marks against her pale wrists. "Malfoy, listen okay? Just untie me and we'll forget this entire traumatising twenty four hours occurred."

Draco ignored her; he licked his lips instead, curiously, slowly, sucking at his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth. "I taste sex." He stated deadpanned as he turned curious eyes on her. "Did we –"

Hermione panicked and nearly jerked her shoulder from its socket in her attempt to escape. "No! No…don't even think that, Malfoy! We…well you, well technically your mother and well…umm…and you performed orolabial stimulation."

"Orolabial stimulation." Malfoy gave her a long calculating look. "What does my mother have to do cunnilingus?"

Hermione made a somewhat feral sound of distress deep in her throat as she struggled roll away from his intense gaze. Seeming to sense her distress, Malfoy slapped her firmly on the thighs, urging her into stillness. She watched with a horror-struck expression as he rolled his extremely naked body into the crux of thighs and gave her an experimental lick.

The arrogant bastard had the gall to smirk as he smacked his lips. "I gave you a nice tongue lashing, didn't I? Another point to the rotten, foul mouthed pervert; I never knew I was such a charming sleeper."

His smugness was even more aggravating than usual, if that was possible. Hermione sneered at him with a curl of her lips. "Yes, well done, nocturnal molestation…wonderful skill to have. And you weren't asleep. Your mother likely slipped you a love potion spiked with a potent and most definitely illegal virilising agent. It's probably why you retain no memory of our…activities."

"My mother drugged me? What do you mean virilising agent? I'm perfectly virile all on my own! Merlin's beard! Must she hold my hand through everything?"

"Cut your leading strings and overcome your mommy issues some other time, Malfoy. Release me!"

Malfoy smiled at her serenely as he if the lower half of his face wasn't smeared with her vaginal secretions. "Tell you what, Granger. If I promise to untie you, do you promise to remain where you are and not make a run for the door in your birthday suit?"

Hermione moaned with a disgruntled shrug. "Yes. I promise. Now, please."

The ropes loosened and retreated like fleeing serpents and Hermione leapt instantly from the bed, darting for the bedroom door as fast as her chilled right leg and numbed left leg would carry her. She didn't get far; firm arms caught her, jerked her off her feet and slammed her back onto the bed. Malfoy pinned her down and tsked with an insolent shake of his head.

"What have you done, Granger?"

Hot hands travelled her chilled skin and Goosebumps rose following the trail. Hermione squirmed as she began to warm reluctantly under the caress, panting as her eyelids lowered and her body rolled against him instinctually.

"What…what have I done?" She whimpered as long fingers teasingly pinched a nipple.

Malfoy lowered his head languidly, maintaining their heated gaze as he casually latched onto the other. He suckled and nipped, encompassing her sensitive tissue into a hot, wet cavern. Without thinking, she rolled her hips against him, wrapping her legs around his narrow, masculine hips until her heels dug into the taut flesh of his arse.

He released her nipple with a playful pop. "You broke an express and patent promise to a wizard."

"So?" She panted. "Ahh…Oh fuck…mmm…" Pleasure raced up her spine, bowed her back and made her lose track of the importance of their conversation.

"So…it means you owe me a forfeit." Malfoy's delightful fingers slipped into her sex and slyly tapped her clit. Hermione felt her pussy clench desperately.

"According to who?"

"According to the Holy Book of Malfoy."

Fingers pumped hard into her pussy, pushing past pleasure swollen tissues which happily clamped on the intrusion as she moaned in delight. Hermione was hot and tingly all over and all she wanted to do was roll him over and straddle the flesh which prodded her middle.

Draco's lips met and instantly covered hers. As his fingers worked the wetness between her legs, his lips coaxed hers open seductively, tangling his tongue heatedly with hers. Hermione bucked as the sensations rioted through her body, crushing his hand and erect cock between their entangled bodies.

He grunted and pulled away. "Fuck. Stay still, Granger."

Hermione rolled her hips again, inflamed by his tone. She heard him growl angrily and a moment later, the breath rushed from her lungs in a scream as he gave her a stinging slap straight onto her swollen sex. Draco's hand descended again and a wet smack echoed obscenely through the room. Exhilaration rushed from her gushing sex to her endorphin drenched brain.

"Be good, Granger." He moaned as he lowered his cock to her pussy, rubbing in circles until the bulbous head was drenched in her wetness. "Only good girls get cock."

Hermione bit back a scream, lifting her head as she watched him. His cock looked an angry red and swollen, distended veins traversed the thick, heavy length and drops of milky pre-ejaculate fluid leaked from the opening drop by drop. Hermione arched deliciously as his hands returned to her nipples to pinch her punishingly. Thrills of pleasure laced pain tore through her and Hermione pulled her legs wide, tempting his taught body back into the crux of her body.

With a delighted moan, she clamped her thighs around his waist, bucked up and unbalanced him. Malfoy rolled with a curse until she had him firmly straddled. Hermione grasped greedily at his cock, positioned him voraciously at her opening and ground herself downwards. She whimpered and latched onto his shoulders, crushing her breasts to his chest. She jerked her hips down but the head of his phallus couldn't even squeeze past the convulsing muscles at her opening.

Draco clicked his tongue with a smug smile. "I told you only good girls get cock. Your body understands that even if your mind won't."

Panting and frustrated, Hermione collapsed onto his body, tempted to pinch the self-satisfied look off his face. "Are you always this loquacious during sex? You're worse than Ron, although with him it was always Quidditch, food, and Harry and Ginny."

"That," Draco murmured with a bark of laughter, "is seriously sick." He lifted her off his stiff cock and pushed her onto her back. Hermione didn't bother resisting, shamelessly allowing her legs to roll apart as he jerked two pillows from the head of the bed and shoved them under her hips. Propped and tilted brazenly, Hermione waited with a bewildered chuckle as Draco moved over her.

She felt his cock meet her sex once more and the smooth head parted her labia. He circled her clit with skilled, hot fingers. Hermione felt her sex squeeze in happy anticipation. She squirmed, delighted.

"Be still, Granger." His voice was guttural. "Brace your hands on the headboard."

Hermione did as commanded as he rose above her. She watched breathlessly as he used his weight and gravity to bear down. Her flesh quivered in delight as his fingers circled her clit ceaselessly. Flames shot through her pussy as the head of his cock slid in. He pinched her clit and Hermione exploded with a disbelieving scream.

Draco released a husky chuckle then groaned as she tried to milk his cock. "Not fucking yet, baby."

When her first orgasm passed and she relaxed into a boneless heap, Draco's fingers returned to her clit and he thrust into her pussy, buried unrepentantly to the hilt.

She felt unbelievably full and heated. Branded. She rolled her hips with lust filled delight, allowing her sex to flutter around the delicious cock that she never wanted to release.

"Mmm…tight, hot cunt. Fucking beautiful." Draco groaned, pinching her clit. A look of desperate bliss seized his features as she clamped down and tried eagerly to grind against him.

He drew out slowly, tormenting her as his cock rasped against orgasm sensitised tissue. Without ceremony, he forced his thick length back into her. Rough, potent thrusts began bouncing her against the bed and Hermione felt another orgasm build within her. It gathered like a storm at the base of her spine, tightened the muscles of her abdomen and met with reckless abandon in her pussy.

With a wordless cry, Hermione felt it descend and seize her body. She tightened as aching pleasure possessed her like a vengeful spirit and tore at her senses. Draco's hands clamped on her hips, pinning her so he could continue his frenzied plunge into her body until he came with dark shout and hot washes of seed coated her inside.

Her channel still fluttering in the aftermath, Hermione jerkily removed the pillows from beneath her hips and allowed Malfoy to roll them both bodily to the side so that they lay facing each other. His cock lay hot and heavy against the inside of her thigh and she felt no inclination to move even when he encircled her in his arms with a satisfied murmur.

"That was unexpected." She said finally.

Malfoy hummed in agreement.

"Verbal barbs are like foreplay."

He laughed. "You mean all those years at Hogwarts; the slurs, the insults, it was all just leading up to back breaking sex nearly two decades later?"

"It certainly is a nice way to think of it." She murmured as her eyes started drifting shut in exhaustion. "Perhaps we should test the theory." Hermione breathed a satisfied groan. "Slytherin bastard."

Malfoy pushed her onto her stomach. "Weak, Granger, but no one has ever accused me of lacking inspiration."

Hermione felt her legs be pushed wide apart even as she rested her cheek weakly against the pillow. Her hips were held fast and she was lifted onto her knees with a jerk. Draco's hot cock ploughed into her and Hermione pushed back with a scream.

"Always wanted to mount you, Granger." He pounded into her as her pussy drenched them both in her juices. "Like a stallion and a mare. Maybe I should blindfold you, cover your head like the mare that needs to be subdued. Do you want that Granger? To be fucked from behind while all your senses are heightened?"

Draco laughed darkly as she moaned with each intimate invasion of his cock. He dragged her up until her back was bowed and her head rolled feverishly against his shoulder. He cupped her breasts, kneading and pinching until he shifted her forward so she could brace her hands against the wall. His cock drove heavily and his hands roamed freely.

Hermione peaked with a shriek. Draco followed moments later, releasing his cum with a pleased grunt. Between them, their fluids dripped from where they were connected and led a sticky path down her thighs.

Malfoy dragged her into his arms and they collapsed backwards. She was asleep in seconds.

When she woke next, the blinds were pulled mercilessly apart and the sun was high in the sky, the piercing sunlight illuminating every corner of large bedroom. She lay nude and strangely warmed, the sheets bunched at her feet. She peeled her sticky thighs apart with a groan, savouring the sweet ache which followed her every movement until she arched and stretched with pleasure.

As Hermione's eyes adjusted to the bright conditions, she started with a scream and instantly shuffled towards the headboard, grasping for the nearest pillow to cover her nudity.

Malfoy regarded her coolly from his chair at the foot of his bed. He swirled his tongue slowly around a silver spoon before he removed it with a pop and dipped it back into the plastic cup full of green jelly, the kind that Hermione often found in the lunchboxes of her young cousins.

As she watched in bewilderment, he lifted another mouthful to his lips as he continued to watch her with that perpetually deadpanned expression. In that spoon went, a swirl of his tongue then back to the green jelly in the plastic cup. He slouched further into the seat, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Granger. Would you like some jell-o? It's wonderful stuff."

Hermione shuffled towards him enough to make a grab for the sheet. With a wriggle and some creative positioning, she managed to wrap enough of the cotton around her body to preserve at least some modicum of modesty, enough at least, to discard the pillow as he continued to slouch, proffering the treat.

"You do realise that it's nothing but a mass of artificial flavouring, Gelatin and food dye, right?"

His frown deepened as he sent his spoon digging through the green mess. "I think there are pieces of pears at the bottom." He offered her a piece and shrugged when Hermione sent him a disbelieving look. Chewing thoughtfully, he settled back into his seat and seemed to settle in to watch her once more.

"Do…do you want to talk about this?" She tried at last, waving her arm in a sweeping gesture, indicating the milky white stains on his dark sheets.

"No."

Hermione's eyes darted around awkwardly, avoiding the cool gaze he continued to level at her.

"Alright. I think I'll take a bath then."

Malfoy made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat as he gestured negligently towards an open door a few paces from where she sat. His attention wavered from her at last and was directed to his jelly.

Tempted to fill the silence but unsure what to say in the afterglow of explosive sex with her childhood nemesis, Hermione opted instead to shuffled towards the bathroom, allowing the cool feel of the tiles to seep into her bare feet as she swung the door close the locked it with a quiet click. The instant she was blocked from his view, she dropped the sheet and turned towards the mirror.

Hermione's jaw dropped. There were…bruises…well, bite marks really, all over her. The imprint of teeth on her shoulder, chafe marks between her breasts, scratch lines against her waist and pale fluids dry against the inside of her thighs. Her face seemed to fare no better with smeared lipstick, running mascara and sleep marred cheeks lined with imprints of his linens.

Groaning but not quite ready to face the reality of her actions, Hermione turned from the sight and perused the beautiful décor. Black and white existed in sharp contrast against metallic clean lines and translucent glass. The bathtub could fit a harem of women and the shower had enough nozzles to accommodate an army unit.

She debated a moment between a long soak and a quick rinse. The stickiness involved in her own steps reminded her that it was probably best not to steep herself in a soup of sweat, semen and saliva. A shower it was. Hermione stepped under the hot pressurised water with a sigh and allowed the six shower heads to pound against her back, sending the evidence of a night of frenzied sex down the drain. She considered briefly if it was too intimate to use his shampoo and soap but considering what they'd done in the past twelve hours, no line could be crossed that hadn't already been crossed and recrossed and likely defiled for the hell of it.

When her fingers had wrinkled and her lungs were almost suffocating in a cloud of steam, Hermione lethargically pushed herself off the shower wall and turned off the continuous flow of water. She stepped carefully onto tile, petulantly seized a large towel and hastily began to dry her hair.

"Granger." Malfoy sauntered in with his wand twirling between his fingers.

Hermione screamed bloody murder and reached for a bar of hand soap to pitch at his head. She damned his seeker fast reflexes as he nonchalantly ducked the projectile and backed her into the countertop.

Seething at the intrusion, she held the towel like a shield before her naked body, huffing as he casually tucked his wand into his back pocket and pinned her with a serious look.

"I want to talk about what happened."

Hermione shook her head, disbelief lifting her eyebrows. "Now? Can I get dressed first?"

"No. I want to fuck you again when we finish talking so clothing would be redundant."

Hermione aimed a fist at his head but he casually batted it aside, pinning both her hands to the countertop behind her, forcing her to drop the towel. She struggled with futility against him but soon saw the wisdom of remaining still, giving up with a huff as his clothed erection pressed into softness of her middle.

"I have three points to make." He said rather seriously. "Firstly, we had sex."

She couldn't stop the snort which burst from her and Malfoy levelled an annoyed look in her direction before going back to staring at the mirror behind her.

"Secondly," he stated as she resigned herself to nonsense, "The circumstances which led to said fortuitous events are likely to have been instigated by my mother."

"Most definitely, Malfoy."

He shot her another quelling look. "And thirdly, why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"That is a question, not a point." Hermione noted sardonically. "And we should most definitely look the gift horse in the mouth as…"

Malfoy made an annoyed sound and pinned her more firmly. "No. We shouldn't. My mother did this for reasons beyond the comprehension of a sane and sensible cohort so trying to puzzle out her motives are more likely to cause a migraine than yield answers. What we should do is enjoy the pardon we've received to avoid what remains of that mad hatter party and stay cooped up here to have wild, hot sex."

"Your mother will think that we…you know…" She offered an awkward shrug.

"Had sex? Yes. I imagine that was her intention from the start."

"No," Hermione head-butted his shoulder in frustration, "She'll think that we're…together…you know…like a couple. Which, I'm sure, were her devious Slytherin intentions right from the beginning as I'm told that each year, many of your party guests seem to inexplicably wind up married."

"Let her think what she wants. We'll stay here, shag like rabbits or _Weasleys_ if you will –"

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned. "Please; they're my friends and the image is making me nauseous."

" – and come Friday, the night of the Solstice and ball, we'll enact a monumentally catastrophic breakup and mother will think twice before attempting to match make again, at least until next year."

Hermione eyed him dubiously as Draco lifted her onto the countertop and began shedding his shirt. She stilled his hand as he reached for his belt and pushed him bodily away so that she could hop down and skirt around his hardened body.

"You know what I think?"

"No, I've never particularly cared for –"

"I think," She interrupted forcefully; "we should go our separate ways and _obliviate_ ourselves to within an inch of our lives and then casually and meticulously avoid each other for the rest of our natural lives."

She gave him what could be interpreted as a nod or a sudden muscular spasm and turned on her heel.

Malfoy didn't let her get far. Firm, calloused hands seized her hips and dragged her several steps backwards. She was unceremoniously lifted back onto the countertop and with her sex still warm and fluid from her shower, Draco's cock slid into her with ease.

Hermione moaned and arched towards him. He seized her arse in both hands and levered her to the edge, forcing her to brace herself against the taps and the edge of the mirror at her back. With the cold, hard corner of the marble countertop digging into her spine, Malfoy began a punishing rhythm which sent her body into a frenzy of lust, his balls slapping obscenely against her with each forward momentum. Moaning from the sensation, Hermione lifted herself to meet each thrust, languishing in the friction of his hard cock as he ploughed into her, stretching hot tissue flushed with pounding blood.

Draco was growling with each retreat and each return, thrilling her as he latched hungrily onto her nipple which he gnawed at ceaselessly while he pounded her body with his. When her pussy began convulsing under the onslaught, she let herself go with a scream, clamping down on his cock as hard as her inner muscles could allow, the intimacy of her actions setting off another cascade of explosions inside her.

Gasping, she felt his body tense as he dragged her to the ground, their descent cushioned only by the towel she had dropped earlier.

Still hard and pulsing, Draco pulled out. Hermione felt him lean into her lax and twitching body. He pressed his lips against her ear, sucking a lobe into his mouth as he murmured to her.

"Your pussy…is like a hot, tight fist. When you come, it's like being squeezed, milked and the only thing that could make that better is if it came with a vibrate option."

"What?" Hermione asked hoarsely, her words slow as she struggled to reboot her cognitive processes. "I don't know what kind of women you've been screwing, Malfoy, but they must cost you a fortune in batteries."

Draco laughed darkly. He levered himself off her prone body and shuffled on his knees across the room, opening a drawer under the sink. She watched him pull out a bottle and a velvet pouch.

"Have you ever been fucked in the arse?" He asked offhandedly.

"No!" Hermione screeched as shock radiated through her at his words. The damned bastard continued to advance, his cock stood angrily against his abdomen, lewdly glistening in the bathroom's artificial light, still coated in her cream.

"Don't even think about it, Malfoy. I don't like that kind of thing." She warned him as she sat up, drawing her knees up to her chin in an attempt to shield herself.

He seized her ankles and drew her out with a jerk. "How," he asked as she found herself sprawled wantonly on the tiles, "do you know that you won't like it if you haven't tried it?"

"I just know!" She flailed as he subdued her easily, turning her onto her stomach as he set to massaging her arse.

Despite herself, Hermione relaxed and groaned as she arched into his erotic touch, barely moving even as he flicked open the bottle he held, squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. With his other hand, she felt him part the cheeks of her arse and cold press of fingers as they circled that forbidden opening and slipped inside with surprise ease, past the ring of tight muscle which guarded the opening.

"Damn." He hissed as she gasped at the unusual fullness she felt at the invasion. "You've really never been fucked here, have you? Merlin, you're too tight."

"I told you, Malfoy!" She answered in a whimper even as she pushed back against him, seeking a deeper invasion.

He grunted and she felt him trying to push a second finger into her. There were a few moments where the burning pain felt almost overwhelming before he pushed through. She screamed, allowing the burn to engulf her before the feeling settled into throbbing, forbidden pleasure. He scissored his fingers inside her, making her arch and writhe with the fullness.

Malfoy released what sounded like a disappointed sigh. "You're too tight to take me, Granger. I'd probably tear you."

Despite the pleasure she found in his fingers, Hermione felt somewhat relieved that he wouldn't be trying to put his fat cock into that particular orifice. Before she could relax fully however, he scissored his fingers again, pumping into her hard enough to elicit the starting tremors of an unexpected orgasm.

He spoke over her moans. "Doesn't mean I'll never fuck you in the arse though, you just need a little stretching. That is what this is for."

"What?" She whimpered as she stared at him over her shoulder.

He removed his fingers from her and went to the sink to wash his hands. When he returned, Draco picked up the velvet pouch, loosening the drawstring as he poured the contents into the palm of his hand. Two small, pale objects came into view, one looking vaguely phallic in shape the other like a small car remote.

"This," He smiled as he leisurely coated the phallic object in lube, "is a plug. The smallest size that exists but we all have to start somewhere." He smiled again as she lay unmoving, allowing him to part her cheeks again and circle the rosette of her arse with small swirling movements.

Hermione moaned, pushed back and relaxed just enough to allow the plastic to invade her. It was as thick as two of his fingers but no more, it made her feel full and slightly stretched but the pleasurable burn was disappointingly absent.

Draco clucked sympathetically and pushed the plug the rest of the way into her. He rolled her over onto her back and smiled with deceptive charm. "I know darling, but you're not ready for anything thicker. Soon though, I promise. In the meanwhile…"

His smile darkened noticeably as he held up what Hermione thought was a remote. His thumb circled the button slowly as she watched with rapt attention. When curiosity almost overwhelmed her, he depressed the switch.

Hermione screamed as her lower body flared to life. Deep, profane vibrations coursed from the object in her arse and raced through her body, triggering a gush of cream which flooded her pussy and leaked out onto the towel beneath her. Her hips moved of their own prerogative as they raised and lowered, seeking pleasure and release.

Malfoy laughed above her and his body covered hers once more. His weight pushed her hips into the floor and his hard cock surged into her pussy with one bone jarring thrust.

She screamed again. Hermione felt overwhelmingly full. With Draco's cock and the vibrator lodged deep inside her, she felt completely overwhelmed. The invasion seemed to reach beyond her sex; it seemed to race up her spine and lodge somewhere in the back of her throat.

Draco released a feral growl, his fingers digging into her hips as he fought to hold himself still. It seemed to be a losing battle and Hermione urged him on, demanded his movement with the wild bucking of her own hips. She was mindless with want and when he began pulling his cock out of her, she clawed at his back until he rewarded her with another hard thrust.

"Sweet Circe! Yes…yes baby, you feel so good. Hermione! Yes…milk me…fuck, that's right, work your pretty little cunt." He panted hotly into her ear. "Do you like that, hmm? Do you like having me in your creamy cunt and something else in your arse?"

She arched against him, crying for release.

"Your pussy is so greedy, baby. I don't think it gets played with enough. Have you been neglecting this pretty pussy, baby?" He clicked his tongue, enacting disappointment as he reached his hands between them to stroke her clit. "Don't you know that it's a privilege, not a right to have this pussy…you need to look after it."

Hermione moaned.

"It needs a fingering at least once a day. " He circled her clit as if to prove a point, laughing darkly as she clamped down on him in reaction. "A good fucking at least twice a day." Malfoy shoved his cock into her several times in rapid succession. "And it definitely needs to be eaten out morning, noon and night."

His teeth sank into the curve of her shoulder as he slowed his thrusts once more. He opted instead to grind down on her, enflaming her clit until Hermione's eyes rolled into the back of head from the pleasure. She clamped down on him and came.

When her mind returned to her body what felt like hours later, her body was a mass of protesting muscle and over-sensitised nerves. Her breasts were being lazily suckled, her pussy felt full of cum and the plug was still nestled deep inside her back hole, though it no longer vibrated.

"Hello baby," came the rumbling masculine purr. Hello indeed.


	6. Wednesday

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR.

**A/N: I know. It's late! Sorry, I've been so preoccupied with University these past few weeks. Just bear with me, I do intend to finish and update more regularly from now on. Fingers crossed.**

* * *

_The moment eternal - just that and no more -_

_When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core_

_While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet_

_- Robert Browning  
_

Wednesday

"Sweet Merlin, how do you survive in the real world?" Hermione ran a frustrated hand through her tangled mass of curls, slamming shut yet another empty cabinet in Malfoys vast penthouse kitchen. Despite it being a comfortable modern space filled with all the necessary magical and Muggle appliances, it was overwhelmingly empty. All she had found so far was a six pack of green jelly in a dark corner of the pantry.

Malfoy lounged lazily in a rather uncomfortable looking stool, his elbows propped on the marble island, his hands cupped his amusedly titled head from where he had watched her extremely unsuccessful expedition to scavenge food.

"My major-domo usually takes care of that kind of thing. Seeing as how I was meant to be at my ancestral home for the duration of this week, he ensured all perishable food items were removed from my kitchen. You could just accept my earlier offer…"

Hermione's mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. She shot him a quelling look, careful to conceal it, however. "I know you usually date the stereotypical one-meal-per-week supermodel, but I assure you that realistic women like me need more to survive than a shot of semen to last me through the day."

He sighed dramatically as he listlessly slid off his perch. "Modern women; none of you have any concept of working for your meals. You just want to waltz into the lap of rich man and expect to be spoon fed. Just look at me, I'm not complaining, I'm perfectly happy to eat pussy and green jelly for the duration of the day."

She snorted, skirting his grasping hands as she made for the flight of stairs, the towel from her second shower still tucked tightly under her arms. "No more sexual favours until I'm fed, Malfoy."

She shot him a look over her shoulder needlessly; he was already ascending the stairs, his lascivious eyes firmly fixed on her swaying arse. "I'm going to get dressed and go out for breakfast. You can do what you like."

Malfoy tucked a finger between her shoulder blades, snagging the back of towel and pulling it away, discarding it over the railing of the staircase. His hands greedily cupped the globes of her backside before sneaking forward to still her flexing hips, pulling her back to tuck her against his burgeoning arousal.

Hermione smacked his hands though he resolutely held tight. "Did you hear me, ferret?"

"Acknowledged and dismissed, Beaver." He kissed the curve of her shoulder, lightly scraping his teeth over the area, sinking the incisors lightly into her skin, effectively holding her in place so his hands could go wandering. "I destroyed your clothing and you don't have any money. See…ouch, you banshee!"

She released the grasp she had on the lobe of his ear and continued to ascend the stairs. "That's why I'm going to borrow one of your shirts, floo to my apartment and go from there."

Malfoy stood open-mouthed and gaping behind. "But…but I want to have sex! I got you away from mother's prison and you want to celebrate our miraculous escape by doing something as banal as eating and getting dressed?"

She shouted over her shoulder as she turned the corner towards his bedroom. "We celebrated several times last night as your bed sheets, the chaise lounge upholstery and the wool rug would attest."

Malfoy caught up to her in several bounding steps just as she was pulling on a pristine white shirt from his laughably immense walk-in closet. She buttoned each pearl button with aplomb as his fingers closed convulsively around her arms.

"Don't worry," she stated with a cool smile. "I'll have the shirt dry cleaned and returned to you before you know it."

She gently pried his fingers from her arms while he did a remarkably adorable impression of a fish out of water.

"You…you can't."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is this one of those annoyingly prissy shirts that need to be hand-washed and…"

Malfoy's brows snapped together angrily. "No, you bint. I meant that you can't leave…"

"Because?" She prompted as she walked around his frozen form.

"…Because…because…well…aren't you going to fish for another date? A diamond ring? A commitment in some way, shape or form?"

Hermione spun and eyed him, unsure of how to interpret his words. Cool though he may be, Hermione wasn't silly enough to brush him aside as an emotionless snake. They had all learned harsh lessons during the war and whatever the enmity between them, she didn't want to hurt him anymore than she had to. The sex was cataclysmic but that was by no means a reason or a foundation for the beginning of a relationship…if that was what he wanted.

"Is that what you want?" She ventured hesitantly.

"No. Of course not." He spat instantly. "We're two consenting adults. We can just have sex and go our separate ways. No regrets or recriminations involved."

Hermione felt a curious twinge somewhere in the region of her chest but brushed it aside. She smiled serenely. "No regrets. I'll see you for the ball on the solstice."

She moved from the room and swift footsteps carried her down the stairs to the large fireplace which looked oddly fitting in the parlour to the side of the front door. The marble and golden detailing around the mantelpiece seemed to belong in an ancient Italian manor rather than a sleek London penthouse. A beautifully carved box, inlaid with mother of pearl detailing sat beside a vase full of blooming roses and a quick look inside revealed what looked like ashes with a faint verdant glow.

She grabbed a handful and stepped into the immense fireplace before she could allow the thoughts which pushed at the back of her mind to come to the forefront.

Hermione tumbled into her own living room a moment later, coughing as she brushed dark streaks off her shirt. She patted down her hair as she propped herself up on her coffee table, staggering to her feet as she winced at the soreness between her thighs. A good hot soak in her bathtub would take care of that but Hermione found she was in no mood to sit alone and contemplate the past few days.

Instead, she rushed into her bathroom and found what spare toiletries she could and washed her face, brushed her teeth and set about concealing the purpling love bites on her neck. Once she had dressed, Hermione paused at leaving her apartment, smiling bemusedly as she finally remembered leaving her wallet and all her bank cards at Malfoy manor.

With a dry laugh, she resigned herself to a scrounged meal at home until she could turn up at Harry's door when he finished work for the day.

A quick check of her own kitchen cupboards revealed almost as little as Malfoys. She didn't need a major-domo to tell her a week's time could spoil most of her provisions. She was left with two options. A long forgotten box of stale breakfast cereal and several cans of aged sardines which could likely survive nuclear fallout.

A pounding knock interrupted her musings.

"One moment!" She yelled as she did a quick survey in the reflective surface of the toaster to make sure the skin of her neck looked relatively normal. A hopeless cause she saw with a frown.

Hermione darted to the door, praying it wasn't another travelling salesman intent on selling her a share in a house that likely didn't exist. She undid the deadlock and swung open the door with a polite smile. It dropped instantly.

"Malfoy. What…?"

The blond frowned lightly as he stared at her blandly. "You left your wand." He shoved it into her hands and Hermione blushed. She hoped that he didn't misinterpret her forgetfulness as some feminine ploy to extend their acquaintance.

"Oh. Thanks Malfoy."

He nodded, leaning against her doorjamb, his hands tucked leisurely in his pockets.

Hermione watched him as he watched her. He remained silent and unmoving for several moments more as she internally debated the significance of his actions. Behind him, she could see her gossip mongering neighbour, Mr. Caruthers limp up the stairs. His beady keen eyes was already glittering at the sight of a foreign presence in their shared corridor.

She waited just long enough to meet those gleeful eyes to offer a forcibly calm smile before she stepped aside. "Come in."

Malfoy pushed off and walked in with a small relieved smile. Hermione slammed the door behind him.

"Do you want something to drink? I think I have tea and instant coffee or…"

Malfoy made himself at home in one of her flowery armchairs. "Tea will do."

Hermione nodded awkwardly and set about boiling the water, popping small teabags into two mugs. As her small silver electrical kettle bubbled to life, she stared needlessly at it, fiddling emptily and struggling for something to say. She was burning with curiosity about why he was here but it seemed rather rude to demand his purpose after he had so graciously returned her wand to her.

The click from her kettle startled Hermione and she jumpily grasped the appliance, filling the two mugs before setting them in front of Malfoy who surveyed her living room and adjoining kitchen with something akin to morbid curiosity.

"Sweet Merlin's britches, Granger, it looks like Umbridge's personal little love dungeon."

Hermione fought the urge to tip her scalding tea all over his lap.

"It is a little too floral but I've had this apartment since I graduated Hogwarts."

"I would've thought my father paid you enough to change that."

Hermione's instincts rose to the forefront. Did he know about her agreement with Lucius Malfoy? Was Draco in on the deal for the grant? What would be his purpose for bribing her to make an appearance when Narcissa obviously had matchmaking on her mind? Was this some sort of sick joke? Had it all been planned…Good God had she been paid to have sex with Draco in some sick roundabout way?

"What do you mean?" She demanded.

Malfoy sat forward and eyed her curiously. "My father does pay you a salary doesn't he? I knew you were a bleeding heart but…"

He trailed off but Hermione caught his meaning and relaxed slowly. "Of course. But rent in London is bloody expensive and I'm saving to buy a nice cottage of my own…"

"Yes, yes, alright, Granger. I didn't ask for your life story."

Hermione closed her mouth with a click, grinding her back teeth together as had become her habit these past few days.

"Can I help you with something then?"

Malfoy stared at her for a while as if attempting to puzzle out a particularly tricky riddle. "Aren't you going to offer me some sustenance after I so graciously brought you your wand?"

She ground her teeth harder, suppressing the spiteful retort at the tip of her tongue.

"I don't have much…" she glared when he snorted, standing so that she could rifle through her cabinets again. "I have Coco Puffs though…"

Hermione frowned at the expiry date. They were cutting it close but there were likely enough preservatives in that one box to preserve human flesh for an eternity.

Malfoy stood close behind her, reaching for the box curiously. "Coco puffs?"

"Yes. Muggle breakfast cereal. I don't have any milk but…" She eyed a can of orange fizzy drink with a shrug.

Malfoy ripped open the packaging with a shrug, digging his hand into the plastic and coming out with a handful of the chocolate grains. He tasted them experimentally, licked his lips with a happy moan and proceeded to reach for another handful.

Hermione eyed him balefully. Draco Malfoy apparently had more in common with Ron Weasley than he was liable to admit. She didn't say as much, not wanting to exasperate an already awkward situation with hostility.

She sat down wearily, wincing as the muscles in her thighs quivered with effort from the slow descent. Malfoy plopped careless down across from her at her circular dining table.

"I brought you something." He said suddenly in-between mouthfuls.

Hermione looked up from where her tense gaze had rested just as his legs brushed hers, making her jolt in surprise.

"What…?"

Malfoy set down the comical looking cereal box, reaching into his pocket and retrieved a small rectangular package wrapped in non-descript brown paper. He set it before himself on the table and nudged it towards her with an agonised expression.

"It…occurred to me…after you left." He said as if explained it all. He shrugged his shoulders and waited.

Hermione knew instantly what it was and took it with a grimace. A pregnancy test. The fact that he thought she had been irresponsible enough to sleep with him without thinking of contraceptives was vaguely insulting but she could understand his reasoning behind it.

"I'm not pregnant. I'm on the pill." She stated resolutely, almost expecting the answer that came.

He scoffed. "Muggle medication; Malfoy genetics –"

"Despite you delusional, arrogant presumptions, your swimmers are not exempt from the rules of biology." Hermione interrupted with a huff, ripping open the brown paper with a frown. "The combined oral contraceptive pill functions by interfering with the natural hormonal fluctuations within the woman's body and hence –"

Malfoy interrupted with a slash of his hand through the air. "Thanks for the inconsequential rant, Granger. But I wouldn't trust your nonsensical muggle science to de-worm that fur ball you call a cat. So be a good girl like you were last night," He spared her a knowing smile, "and drink the bloody potion."

Hermione was already uncorking the vial just to shut him up. She pitched the small stopper at his head contrarily and threw back the potion, swallowing the bitter, viscous substance with a grimace. She fought the urge to gag and set down the glass bottle to wipe her mouth, uncaring that his lips twisted into a sneer at her actions.

"Were you raised by wolves?"

"In a cave too, for effect." Hermione shot back with a snap. Nausea twisted her stomach and she snapped her mouth shut instantly. She salivated and swallowed convulsively before the glass vial started vibrating frantically from where she had placed it. The movement stopped the instant her eyes flew to it and glowed a vibrant red.

She met Malfoy's eyes across the table.

"I had to be sure." He muttered to her, snatching up the bottle to examine the colour as if he expected the potion to change its mind. "I have another in my pocket if…"

"No." Hermione set her foot down firmly. "These things are nearly a hundred percent accurate. Another wouldn't alter the result."

His lips twisted. "Shall we celebrate then?"

"I'd rather not if it's all the same to you."

"It's not all the same to me. Now that your muggle science has quite surprisingly done its job, I think it would be our duty to further test its capacity for protection against pureblood sperm."

"Get out." Hermione wasn't sure if she was annoyed or amused. It seemed safer to go with the former emotion when it came to Draco. She pointed a finger at the front door.

"Your manners could do with a spruce up."

"Get out." She repeated as her lips twitched, almost into a semblance of a smile.

"Alright; I'll get out if you get out with me."

"Get out."

"I'll buy you breakfast." He checked his watch. "Lunch, I'll buy you lunch."

Hermione snorted just as her stomach rumbled ominously. She briefly debated the merits of stubborn denial but didn't think her body would likely forgive her for it. "Deal."

"You're a cheap date, Granger." He gave her a stunning smile.

"What makes you think this is a date?" She shot back with a wicked smile.

"My name is Draco Malfoy –"

"Well done for remembering! Can you spell it too?" She interrupted as she stood.

He shot her a quelling look. "– and women can't resist me."

She heard him stand to follow her. His steps sped up as he rushed past her, opened the front door with a flourish and bowed.

"Cliché." She sidestepped him.

Malfoy closed the door as he rolled his eyes. He stepped up beside her and offered the crook of his arm.

"Unimaginative." Hermione dismissed.

"Chivalry is dead because you killed it." His dry comment was whispered huskily in her ear. "Now stop arguing Granger and hang on."

A quick squeezing apparation and Hermione found herself standing in Diagon alley, at the mouth of a seedy looking side street where the shadows drowned the filth in darkness and shady witches mingled with morose, shabby wizards.

Malfoy's hand tightened on her arm, dragging her away from the light. "Why are we going into Knockturn alley? I know you think I'm a cheap date but this is taking the joke too far." Hermione demanded, her eyes darting about in case any of her acquaintances and colleagues spotted her going into a dark alley with Draco Malfoy of all people.

"There's a great little café down this way. I promise."

"I bet that's what all the axe murderers say these days besides, there's nothing down there but the lost and forsaken."

Malfoy gave her a sardonic glance, turning to face her while he tucked a hand into the pocket of his dark pants. "That's a poetic way of saying stolen merchandise and whores." He took her hand firmly in his own and exerted the slightest pressure, leading rather than forcing. "Come on, Granger. Where's your sense of adventure? Don't you know that you have to dig through dirt to find treasures?"

"These pants really aren't good for digging…" Hermione protested as the dank smell of the alley closed over them. Just breathing the air made her long for another shower. His grip on her hand however was firm and she reluctantly tripped past a dozen questionable shops with grimy windows and over uneven cobblestones. A few minutes later, the alley widened and the store fronts disappeared, replaced with neat private gardens of private residences. The air was surprisingly refreshing and the road had become an even paved surface.

"Bet you've never seen this end of Knockturn Alley, Granger."

Hermione fought the blush which was rising to her cheeks as he seemed to absentmindedly wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close as he melodramatically swept his hands across the scene.

"Of course the locals like to call it Knockturn Lane; though how changing alley to lane makes any difference is really beyond my comprehension."

Hermione snorted, happy to just let his arm stay where it was. "Malfoy –"

Draco grunted, interrupting her as the arm around her waist tightened. "I've screwed you silly on my bathroom floor and spent an entire night asleep at the crux of your thighs; I think you've earned the right to call me Draco."

"Draco." Hermione rolled it around on her tongue, tasting a deeper meaning than he probably intended.

"Yes. Well done. Now can you spell it too?" He quipped, throwing her words back at her with good humour and a smile.

Hermione felt her lips twitch reluctantly. She shook her head as his fingers tightened against her hip, steering her onto a gravel garden path leading to a small, neat cottage with a number of wrought iron tables with accompanying chairs.

"Merlin Malf…Draco, it looks like some shady backyard operation." She stared wide eyed as he guided her to a chair facing the deceptively quiet suburban lane. Instead of sitting across from her however, he dragged the opposing seat next to hers, forming a continuous bench and sat close enough to press her tight against his chest. One arm around her, he picked up the menu, sparing it a careless glance before throwing it down and gesturing high for a waiter who looked old enough to be Albus Dumbledore's crib mate.

"Ungrateful lil' whelp; back are ye? Well, ye ain't welcome n'more. Struttin' yer skinny arse back like ye own the joint. Ye din own shit…ye can kiss me saggin' behind. I'll give ye whats comin' to ye…"

Hermione watched with morbid fascination as the old man's arthritic fingers reached for his belt buckle, struggling with the mechanism as he tugged at his gangrene suede pants. With a triumphant gurgle, he flung the belt back, cursing the teeth of his zipper with something that sounded rather colourful and heavily Slavic.

"Grandpa!" A tall leggy red head rushed out of the cottage, a scrunched apron in her grasp as she teetered on sky high heels. She flung the apron around the old man's waist, tying the loose ends with a jerk and pink cheeks. "God Grandpa, that's not Billy!"

"Eh? Ungrateful brat's back for…"

"That's not Billy, Grandpa. Billy is in America with his girlfriend. Why don't you go inside and…"

"Hussy!" The old man hissed even as he began shuffling towards the door, mumbling under his breath and shooting Draco harsh, suspicious looks.

"That happens every time I come here," Draco whispered in her ear with a smile, "though usually I get the full Monty before his wife stops him. Apparently I bear some resemblance to his delinquent son."

Hermione jolted and eyed the blushing red head approaching them. "And you still come back huh? Food and show."

"Value for money." He murmured to her with a cheeky wink.

"The red head part of the show?" She whispered to him.

"Never seen her before." He kissed her cheek in an oddly sweet gesture. "She can't compare to you."

Draco got a mouthful of her hair as she swung around wildly to avoid his gaze, trying the hide the blush blooming on her cheeks. She didn't have the chance to retort as the waitress stopped at their table. Hermione smiled stiffly.

"Hello, I'm Melody, I'm…awfully sorry about my grandfather. He has dementia and he well…"

Draco waved away her apology casually. "Where's Annie, anyway?"

Melody seemed to melt under his gaze, her smile softening like melted ice cream. "Grandma rolled her ankle last week and I'm helping out. Are you…are you a regular here?"

Hermione could practically see the beginnings of infatuation in the other woman's eyes. Draco graced her with a casual smile even as his arm tightened around Hermione. "Yes, don't worry, I'm well used your grandfather being a little less than conventional. I just couldn't stay away from Annie's muffins."

Melody giggled, purposelessly in Hermione's opinion.

"Oh well, Grandma's conked on pain killers so I'm doing most of the baking, but I do make a killer peach pie."

Draco smiled charmingly at Hermione and she smiled back stiffly. "What do you say? Feel like a little peach pie?"

Hermione forced herself to nod even as she fantasised about lobotomising the ginger poodle in front of them with a teaspoon. Whoa, damn it, she did not just have that thought. She was a perfectly reasonable, modern woman and…

"No peach pie?" Draco raised his eyebrows as Hermione snapped her head up at his question.

"What?"

"You just growled." He replied, tilting his head so that he blocked her view of Melody. "Don't you like peach pie?"

"No." Hermione ground her teeth. "I mean yes. I like peach pie just fine but…"

"Good. We'll have two slices of that and some pheasant sandwiches; oh and some of Jamaican coffee Annie seems to favour if you have it." Draco ordered, his eyes still completely focused on Hermione, a curious smile pulling at his lips.

Melody's head bobbed inanely and Hermione gritted her teeth as the other woman rushed away.

Draco stroked down her arm calmly as Melody rushed back in record time, a laden tray balanced precariously in her hand. She stood conspicuously to Draco's left, looking like she had done a good deal of primping and coated her lips in something that was likely named beach-babe pink.

She started placing plates on their little table, pushing aside the salt and pepper shakers even as she pushed her chest out, her former high collared sweater missing along with the stained apron she had worn earlier.

Draco reached out to help, pouring the coffee into two mismatched teacups, and pushing one towards Hermione.

"Just call if you need anything else." The poodle added. "Anything at all." She retreated with notable reluctance at Draco's nod.

"Anything at all." Hermione imitated, her voice purposely breathless and pitchy.

Draco chuckled low, another kiss landing on her cheek much to Hermione's surprise. "No need to be jealous, love. There's plenty of me to go around."

Hermione growled and elbowed him, satisfaction rolling through her as he grunted and the arm around her waist loosened just enough to allow her to stand.

He pulled her down without ceremony. "Now, now, no need to be like that, darling." He spoke even as he took a large mouthful of the pie and set down his fork as he chewed and swallowed. "Besides, this pie has nothing on your sweet taste. Now, if Annie had been here to bake me muffins, well then you'd have a fight on your hands."

She drew back just enough to punch him in the arm but Draco just laughed and drew her back to his side. She jolted violently as she felt his free hand begin to snake up her stocking clad thigh. He purred with approval.

"I'm so glad you had the foresight to wear a skirt."

"Malfoy." She hissed.

"Draco." He corrected.

"Draco. Stop it now, we're in public for goodness sake."

His thumb began drawing circles on her inner thigh.

"But I'm just trying to reassure myself that you're all the woman I need."

"God." Hermione groaned as she tried to pull his hand away. "Do you get your lines off pre-schoolers?"

Draco pouted but his hand retreated much to her relief. However, that was woefully short lived as he pulled out his wand, twirling it casually between his fingers as he watched an elderly couple saunter past their table with sweet smiles and settle a few feet away. Melody rushed up to them, her eyes flickering longingly towards Draco.

"Darling, if your eyes don't come back to me this instant, I'm going to develop a complex."

Hermione continued to watch Melody, her own reasoning unfathomable. "You already have a complex." She muttered.

A spark pinched her and travelled up her arm, spreading quickly like a shock of static electricity. She spun just quickly enough to see him tuck away his wand with a smug smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Teaching you a little lesson." Malfoy returned innocently.

Hermione stood and groaned as a hot fist of sensation clamped around her abdomen.

The elderly couple looked over at them with alarmed expressions even as Hermione collapsed into his arms, her head tucked against his shoulder and she muffled another moan.

"Not to worry!" Draco raised his hand in greeting. "My wife is in her first trimester, the nausea still gets to her."

Hermione scoffed even as the heavy tingles started again.

"Stop it, Draco."

"No. I don't think I will." He replied with a calm smile even as the tingles turned to sharp, hot pinpricks.

They stabbed angrily at her feet, making them burn even as her hands began to throb and burn. She squirmed in her suddenly abrasive clothing, trying to escape the sharp pain.

"What is this?" She demanded breathlessly.

"Patience, darling. Patience."

The pain began crawling up her calves, sending her muscles into spasm and similarly in her forearms. She clasped them around Draco even as his arms came around her calmly, tucking her head once more against his chest even as her fingers began closing convulsively on his shirt. The pain faded in her hands and feet, a heavy throbbing heat settling into her joints as they curled.

It was pain and pleasure. She wasn't sure which.

It shifted again, burning in her chest, burning brighter in her thighs. Hermione felt her mind whirl and teeter precariously at some unknown precipice.

"Shh…just hold on."

"I can't." Hermione heard herself whimper, detached from her voice but focused on the burn.

She arched as the pain shifted between her thighs, tormenting her as Draco sweetly caressed her hair and smothered her moans with an encompassing kiss.

She waited with all the patience she could for the burn to fade, for the pleasure to take hold at the crux of her sex like it had with every other piece of her body. Little by little, the pain waned and the heat became intense. Any moment any moment…her back stretched, she threw her head back, lolling against Draco's shoulder as her eyes stared unseeingly and hot tracks of tears ran down her cheeks.

The release stole through her like a thief in the night, sweeping the confines of her body and leaving her empty, aching and craving desperately for something that could only be found in the arms of the man holding her. She clamped her thighs together as she cried into the neck of his shirt, her shoulders shaking as he stroked her hair back.

"There is a fine line." He murmured to her, strangely intense. "Between what we think we want…and what we truly need." His gaze suddenly seemed far, far from there.

Hermione couldn't understand him even as her body calmed and her tears abated.

"You're so…pure." He murmured as he traced the tracks of her tears with one finger. "So extraordinarily unexpected."

He lowered his head and captured her lips with his. He caressed her heatedly and Hermione responded with something akin to desperation. She parted her lips and allowed him to plunder at will, drinking in his taste like she was dying and he was life giving.

* * *

**A/N: Interpret at will...I dare you.**


End file.
